


My legacy to bear

by northernstarnavigator



Series: This promise of mine [2]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Blue King Saruhiko, Fluff, Light Angst, Sequel, rest of Scepter 4 shows up eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-10 11:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15290718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northernstarnavigator/pseuds/northernstarnavigator
Summary: Life goes on without Munakata. That doesn’t mean it’s not hard.





	1. sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I’m back with more.
> 
> This is the sequel to This Promise of mine. If you haven’t read it yet, go read it because this fic will make more sense if you do. If you have, then this is for you as my... apology for putting you guys through This Promise. Hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been about four weeks since the Captain died. Six since he last set foot here.

It’s been about four weeks since the Captain died. Six since he last set foot here.

That’s the only think running through Saruhiko’s mind as he stares at the gates of Scepter 4 headquarters with a lost feeling rooting in his chest. These gates have always felt like a sanctuary, a place where he could (reluctantly) enjoy the company of his fellow clansmen and lose himself in the duties and organized peace that comes with being a Scepter 4 operative. And yet, now they feel so foreign.

He feels a hand at his elbow; it’s the Lieutenant. Under normal circumstances, she doesn’t usually touch him, but there’s nothing about this that is normal. Not without _him_. “Fushimi-kun, it’s time to go in.”

”I _know_ , just...” Saruhiko inhales, his hand trembling from where it’s resting on the hilt of his saber. “I need a moment.”

The hand at his elbow disappears as Awashima nods, and steps back five paces where she usually is. 

Saruhiko takes another breath, because... he’s not ready. He’s _so_ not ready. He doesn’t think his duties as King will be too different from what he did as a clansman, but it’s terrifying. He’s terrified. And not for the last time, he looks at the sky, reaching for the familiarity of his Captain that he knows is up there. _Sir, I’m not ready for this. I’ll never be ready for this_.

 _You are_.

Saruhiko takes a split second to wonder why the Captain’s voice is narrating his thoughts before he takes another breath, levels his gaze with the gates, and squares his shoulders. He doesn’t have time for this, doubting himself. He’s the Blue King now- he is Scepter 4’s leader- and subsequently only has that luxury in the privacy of either his office or his room. So he starts walking.

 _So he keeps walking, keeps shoving down the bleeding ache in his chest even though tears are already blurring his vision, keeps heading towards the door because he has a job to do, and he’s going to do it for his Captain, the man who was a better father than_ he _could ever dream of being._

The gates part upon his arrival, opening for him like he’s always been meant to be in the position he is now. Anxiety shoots up in his chest, and he can feel his knees beginning to shake, but he keeps walking, grounded and somewhat comforted by Awashima’s footsteps behind him. 

By the time he gets to the entrance of the building, his breaths are coming out in short jerks and his hand is visibly vibrating on the hilt of his saber. The blood roaring in his ears drowns out the rapid _bah-bum_  of his heartbeat, and he dimly hears Awashima saying his name.

”Awashima-san,” he says, not finding it in himself to be surprised since it’s the first time he’s called her that, “it’s impossible.. I can’t.”

”Fushimi-kun,” she responds, gentle as she’s always been, “you can.”

 

_Saruhiko hears Misaki stirring behind him, though he doesn’t need to turn around to know what he’s going to do. Sure enough, in the next instant, the space of the bed behind him dips, and Misaki drapes himself lazily over his shoulders. “Saruhiko, it’s like... six in the morning, what the hell are you doing up?”_

_He shrugs, momentarily forgetting that Misaki is literally balanced on his shoulders, and draws out an annoyed grunt from the vanguard. “If I had my way, I wouldn’t get up this morning at all.”_

_Misaki pauses. “You’re going back today, huh.” It’s not a question._

_Saruhiko just nods, and twists a corner of the blanket in his hands. It’s not the going back part he minds so much- he surprised himself the day before when he realized he actually missed the chatter that his fellow clansmen brought to work. It’s just that... going back without seeing_ him _there... he can’t stomach the thought._

_Munakata Reisi was, and in some ways still is, the backbone of Scepter 4. No one’s going to know what to do without him there._

_”You’ll be okay, Saru,” Misaki suddenly says, like he’s reading his thoughts._

_“You don’t know that,” he says, mostly to cover the uncomfortableness of being read so easily as well as the rush of affection for his... boyfriend now._

_Saruhiko’s suddenly staring at Misaki, who’s apparently pushed himself up enough to crane his neck and make eye contact. The vanguard’s eyes are big and serious. “I do know,” he responds, “because you’re Saruhiko. You’ll be the best Blue King there is.”_

_Saruhiko’s now reminded of their middle school days, when anything was possible with just the two of them, when they believed they could catch a spaceship out of sheer force of will, when everything seemed like it would be okay as long as the two of them were standing side by side. Misaki’s wearing the same look as he did back then, full of conviction, and Saruhiko isn’t sure if Misaki’s faith in him is comforting or misplaced. “Misaki, I can’t do it.”_

_”You can,” Misaki insists. “No one’s asking you to be Munakata-san. Oi, look, if you can use two auras, you sure as hell Can be a successful King.”_

_”That’s not the same.”_

_”Yeah, well, you know what I mean.”_

_”...You really think so, huh.”_

_”Why wouldn’t I?” Misaki defends himself with a heat that should be impossible at this hour in the morning. “You’re my boyfriend, right? Well, you’re my best friend too, so... so.. so I just know!”_

_”... Idiot,” Saruhiko mutters, but as Misaki whacks him on the head with a pillow, he can think so too._

 

“Okay.” Saruhiko isn’t sure who that’s directed to, but it takes some tension off his shoulders. He’s able to hold onto the hilt of his saber without white-knuckling it. Although the trembling in his knees isn’t completely gone, it’s significantly lessened. _If Misaki and the Captain were here, this’d be a little bit easier_. 

Huh. Misaki and the Captain. That’s a conversation he’d have paid to see.

The thought temporarily quells the anxiety churning in his gut, long enough for him to step into the entrance, enter the hallway, and walk towards the main room.

Walking through the hallway feels like a stroll down memory lane. Saruhiko remembers when the Captain had first walked with him here, explaining the history of Scepter 4 and of Tsubaki-mon. He had only been half-listening- partly because it wasn’t of any interest to him,  but mostly because he had been focused on the Captain’s face in an effort to try and read the man he would be serving under. It’s one of the few times Saruhiko remembers his Captain actually being excited about something.

The door of the Captain’s office is open, and Saruhiko can’t help but take a detour to see it. 

Everything’s remained unchanged, except maybe the amount of dust in this room. The pile of reports on runaway Strains are still untouched, buried beneath a soft blanket of dust, and Saruhiko reminds himself to finish those later.

What catches his attention, though, are the puzzles. There’s an unfinished one on the Captain’s desk, right next to that pile of reports, as well as puzzle pieces on the floor. He reaches up to run his fingertips over the completed parts, remembering that first time he did puzzles with the man, before he left HOMRA, feeling the memory tug at his heartstrings, and that’s when he sees the photograph.

It’s of the entirety of Scepter 4- of course it is- but the only difference is that it’s just after Saruhiko’s been inaugurated. He knows this because his hair’s not so long, because if he looks close enough he can still see the fire of HOMRA burning in the corners of his eyes. 

The Captain is in the front row, with Awashima on the left and Saruhimo himself on the right. The Captain also has his hand on Saruhiko’s shoulder, and he’s smiling at the camera.

His shoulder feels heavy now, and it’s with a twinge of longing that Saruhiko shakes the feeling off. _Captain, just come back_.

That’s really all he has time to look at, because duty’s pulling him back into the hallway and pushing him through the double doors of the main room.

As soon as he walks in, he notes that they’ve apparently been monitoring traffic for any signs of suspicious activity, but no one’s paying attention to the monitors right now because all conversation in the room has come to a halt and they’re all staring at him.

Saruhiko doesn’t know if they know yet, although they’ve definitely felt their power returning from the moment his Damocles manifested during his awakening. He also doesn’t know how they’d react once they hear the news; he’s starting to regret that he wasn’t a bit more cordial with them. He does know that they’re in shock, which is only put off by Awashima standing behind him. 

She steps forward, taking charge like she generally does if she feels the need to, and casts him a reassuring glance before turning to his clansmen. “Scepter 4,” she says, a hint of a smile in her voice, “this is the new Blue King, Fushimi Saruhiko.”

The room’s only silent for about a moment before noise erupts in the room. Saruhiko jumps a little from surprise because instead of resentful or wary like he’d anticipated, they’re all _happy_.

Dōmyōji’s the first to run up to him, followed by Kamo and Hidaka. “Fushimi-sa- uh, Blue King! It’s so good to have you back! Where’ve you been? It’s been so boring here!”

Before Saruhiko has a chance to respond, Kamo hits his junior upside the head. “You are talking to the new Captain, show some respect!”

”But, Kamo-san,” Dōmyōji says, rubbing his head and resolutely ignoring the disapproving face of his often partner-in-crime Hidaka, “it’s Fushimi-san! He’s the new Blue King, how awesome is that?!”

Amid Dōmyōji’s very Misaki-like enthusiasm, Saruhiko feels the need to say something. “... Don’t call me ‘Captain’ or ‘Blue King.’ It’s... it’s inconvenient and unnecessary.”

The three of them stare at him for about a moment before Dōmyōji flings himself at him and _hugs_ him even though Hidaka’s trying to pull him off. “YES! Fushimi-san hasn’t changed, he’s still grumpy! Yes!”

Saruhiko’s mind has gone completely blank, and he can see Awashima in his peripheral trying not to laugh. He thinks he can also see his Captain’s smug face. _Captain, if you’re laughing at me now, I swear..._ He brings his hands up to awkwardly pat Dōmyōji’s back. “O-Okay, now get off me.”

The operative grins before doing as he’s asked and pulling Kamo and Hidaka away while yelling something like, “We have to do the thing!”

 _Huh?_  Saruhiko can only watch in confusion as the rest of Scepter 4 lines up, and there’s a series of clinks along their saber sheaths. One by one, they draw their swords, each with a variation of a smile in their expressions... except for Fuse, although the grudging respect on his face is mostly appreciated.

”Akiyama, batou!”

”Benzai, batou!”

”Kamo, batou!”

”Dōmyōji, batou!”

”Enomoto, batou!”

It goes on, until every saber but Saruhiko’s is unsheathed, and then the room nearly bursts with the emotion poured into Scepter 4’s axiom.

_“We will advance with sword in hand, for our cause is pure!”_

_They’re welcoming me_ , Saruhiko dimly registers as he realizes what’s going on. _...Tch._ The smiles on most of his clansmen’s faces fill him with some kind of warmth that Saruhiko isn’t particularly inclined to think too deeply about, and he’s not sure how he feels about it. 

 _Clansmen. They’re my clansmen now_. The thought isn’t just comforting, but it fills him with hope.

Hope for a new beginning.

Hope for the future of Scepter 4.

Most importantly, hope that he can prove himself worthy enough to be called Munakata Reisi’s successor.

Then the saber at his left hip clicks, and he draws out his saber for the first time in six weeks, though it feels like it’s been forever. It’s always been excitement that’s made him draw out his sword, but now he draws it out of duty, out of determination, out of _pride_  of what Scepter 4 means. “Fushimi, batou.”

As the rest of Scepter 4 cheers and Awashima starts laughing from happiness, Saruhiko does nothing but stand at the door, a slight smile curling his lip as he looks on at what is now _his_  clan.

He’s not running away this time.


	2. center of my heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I wasn’t able to update yesterday, because something happened and now I can’t really focus that well. If today’s update isn’t too good, it’s because I’m going through a rough time right now. But as long as y’all will support me, I can move past it. Thanks, and enjoy.

“Hey, Munakata.”

Perhaps people passing by would only see someone who’s lost his head. Others might see someone in cahoots with another stranger, plotting something worthy of the yakuza’s attention. Still others might see someone struggling to reconcile with a loved one’s death.

Mikoto thinks all of them might be right, as he kneels in front of Munakata’s gravestone to place the bouquet he brought down. The only difference between this grave and the others in the cemetery is that there’s no body in the ground- Munakata had been laid to rest on the waters of Tokyo Bay. But Scepter 4 had still wanted a grave for him, and Mikoto is no less appreciative of it even if it’s from a rival clan. It just means that he has a tangible place to visit the former Blue King, and he’s more than content with that.

He thinks that the bouquet suits the gravestone. It’s nothing complex, simplistic enough to match the minimalist look of light gray marble with purple lilacs, bluebells, and lilies of the valley, with a single red camellia as the centerpiece. It’s not like the other bouquets Mikoto’s seen on the way here, but it’s personal, and he knows for a fact Munakata would prefer that over lavish displays.

He stands back up, and his hand almost instinctively reaches for the gravestone as he runs his fingertips over the top of it. “Fushimi’s doing well,” he says first, because the man would surely want to know about his favorite subordinate. “I heard from Yata he’s still grieving for you, but the Blues caught, I think, three Strains, and it’s only been four days.”

If he closes his eyes, he can picture Munakata standing by his gravestone, a hand braced on it, and exhaling a sigh of relief that Scepter 4 is in capable hands and that Fushimi is well. _Well, Fushimi-kun has always been extraordinary_.

Mikoto doesn’t argue with that, not when he thinks the exact same thing. “Your Lieutenant’s been over to our bar more n’ more often now, spending time with Izumo. I’m starting to think she and him are planning to take over HOMRA.”

If Munakata was here, Mikoto’s sure he’d be scoffing. _Don’t be presposterous, Suoh. Awashima would do no such thing_.

”Yeah, I don’t know about that.” He doesn’t know why he’s expecting to see Munakata there when he opens his eyes, but he isn’t. It’s just him, the gravestone, and a sky that indicates rain; it’s probably not possible to feel more lost than this. 

His fingertips stop from where they’ve been drumming on the gravestone as his hand barely restrains itself from clenching on the stone. “S’hard without you here, Munakata. It’s really hard.”

Mikoto’s not just talking about his emotions. After the funeral, he’s made it a point to watch his sanctum carefully. He no longer uses his power for unnecessary things, like lighting his cigarettes or heating up a lukewarm cup of coffee during the rare occasions he drinks it. He’s subconsciously stored his aura in his category of _last resort plans_ , but it gets hard to make it stay there, especially since more than once he finds himself missing the familiar thrum of energy beneath his skin.

Tatara made it easier. So did Munakata. But every once in a while, Mikoto feels tempted to let his power surge. “I’m trying to get by, but it’s not easy. Sometimes I think I’ll be improving, then the next day it all just goes to shit again.”

Great. Now he’s not sure if he’s talking about his power or missing Munakata. _Both,_ he answers for himself, _although it’s the second one if he’s being honest_. He doesn’t say anything, though, because Munakata gets it. For now, he just lets his hand slip from the gravestone and tilts his head upwards to look at the sky, inhaling and releasing a breath the same way he did back on Ashinaka.

The wind‘s starting to move his clothes and his hair, and it’s supposed to be cold, but Mikoto doesn’t feel any of it. If anything, it feels like a caress, a hug, that’s saying, _Keep going_.

He closes his eyes and lets the wind rush through his hair and his clothes, picturing Munakata’s hands on his face until he’s convinced that it’s Munakata who’s curling cool hands on his face, that it’s Munakata who’s embracing him, that it’s Munakata who’s encouraging him to _keep going_. If he raises a hand with his eyes closed, he can picture touching Munakata’s face one more time. Longing tugs at his heartstrings; he keeps his hand in the air until he thinks he can feel his hand conforming to the shape of Munakata’s face. _Reisi... I need you. I need you here with me_.

Every day without Munakata hurts, but the nights are the worst. Mikoto either can’t sleep at all or keeps on sleeping until either Kusanagi or Anna comes to wake him up. On the nights he can’t sleep, he sits on HOMRA’s doorstep with a cigarette in his mouth and pulls the smoke into his lungs. It’s the worst way of coping with loss right up there with drinking, he knows, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He doesn’t smoke to forget Munakata- the day he does _willingly_  will never come- but he could do without the intense ache in his chest every time he comes across a picture he doesn’t remember snapping of Munakata on his phone. And sometimes, during those nights, he’ll feel the phantom press of lips against his, a faint brush of a hand against his- the thought of Munakata watching over him is as painful as it is comforting.

He opens his eyes, and he’s not looking into violet eyes like he wants to. It’s just the sky, but that’s a clear message on his own: _You’ll be alright without me there_.

Eventually, Mikoto thinks, but not now. For now he needs a little more time to mourn, until he can find the motivation to get up in the morning even with the ache of missing Munakata pressing down on his heart. “I love you, Munakata. But I need more time.”

It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, but he feels responding warmth rushing through him like it’s normal.

A smile tugs the corners of his mouth upwards as he touches his fingers to his lips before pressing them to the gravestone. “I’ll be going now, Munakata.”

Just as he turns around to leave, the first raindrop falls.

 

 

It’s downright pouring by the time he gets back to HOMRA. 

With hurried footsteps, a grunt in place of a curse, and a banging of the door, he’s inside HOMRA, and he can hear the startled cries of his clansmen. 

“Mikoto.” It’s an annoyed tone, but he chooses not to comment on the underlying note of exasperated fondness as its owner chucks a towel at his face. “Do I even want to know why you’ve been running around in this weather?”

Mikoto doesn’t humor him with a response, because Kusanagi probably knows already. He just takes the towel and mops off the worst of his dripping hair before he slings the towel over his shoulder and plops down on the couch. “Where’s Yata?”

“Bunking in his room with Fushimi. Apparently, it’s easier for the new Blue King to control his power whenever Yata’s around.”

That comes as literally no surprise. Yata and Fushimi were inseparable even before they joined HOMRA; whether they are best friends, enemies, or boyfriends, Yata’s the one who knows Fushimi best, so it makes sense for him to be around when Fushimi’s just learning how to use the Blue aura. 

Not that he knows what that feels like. The Red aura’s been stirring inside him ever since he could remember being awakened, but from what he knows, Munakata hadn’t had the same problem. Maybe it was just because each of the seven kings represented something different; Red was volatile, violent fire, and Blue was orderly, calm ice. Then again, Fushimi’s only been King for eighteen days; he has a lot to learn.

There’s a small weight by his side; Anna’s white hair jumps out against the deep brown of the couch. One of her hands is attached to his own, and the other one is holding a marble to her eye. “You visited Reisi.”

Mikoto nods, and shifts himself so the girl is leaning against his side. “I did.”

Anna cranes her neck to peer at him through the marble; he doesn’t know what she sees to make her eyes light up like that, but it must be something good. “Reisi loves you a lot.”

 _I know_ , but the fact that Anna says it makes a warm feeling tingle in his chest. “Oh yeah? I love him too.”

The girl smiles at him before putting her marble down to snuggle against his arm. “Reisi’s with Tatara; he says not to miss him too much. He’ll be okay.”

It’s the longest thing she’s said in weeks. Mikoto smiles despite himself and curls an arm around her shoulders, squeezing them lightly. “Yeah.”

”Don’t fall asleep yet, Anna. You haven’t had your milk yet.”

 _Moment killer_ , Mikoto thinks as Anna brightens for the second time in a row and gets off the couch to get her cup, and the smirk Kusanagi levels at him tells him that the bartender knows exactly what he’s thinking. “Don’t be like that, Mikoto, she needs her protein.”

”Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

”The usual, coming up,” Kusanagi responds. Mikoto gives him a side-eye, which only makes the man chuckle.

Mikoto huffs to himself, but drags himself off the couch to pull up a chair at the bar. Anna hops in one shortly, her hands curled around her favorite cup.

As Kusanagi takes a break from bartending to pour Anna’s milk, Mikoto regards his second. He’s in strangely bright spirits today, and he’s humming that song Tatara used to sing. Mikoto’s heart clenches, but it’s not enough to deter him from asking about it, especially considering Kusanagi hasn’t hummed that song since forever. “So when are you gonna do it?”

“... Do what?”

“Ask her out.”

Somewhere in the back, Chitose snorts. Also somewhere behind him, the sound of something dropping followed by Bandou’s and Shohei’s curses lets him that a card game has just been reintroduced to the ground. As for Kusanagi himself, he jolts in surprise and almost spills Anna’s milk. “I, you, what... _Mikoto!_ ”

Mikoto shrugs, although he can’t help the smirk that curves his mouth at successfully getting a reaction out of his normally composed strategist. “You’re as happy as a loon every time after you chat with her. So? When are ya?”

Now Kusanagi really does spill a little bit of milk, and he grabs a cloth off the bar counter. “Sorry, Anna. Our King’s being a little nosy here.”

To her credit, Anna doesn’t even look at the spilled milk; rather, she just tilts her head curiously to regard him. “You haven’t asked Seri yet?”

Kusanagi struggles to come up with an answer for about five minutes, made worse with the snickering from the back of the room, until he finally settles a half-hearted glare at Mikoto. “Seri-chan and I are taking things slow, because this is a serious relationship.”

”Didn’t you say that last year?” comes a shout from Shohei, and every one laughs as Kusanagi thunks his head on the counter. 

 

 

Misaki has no idea what he’s doing.

Saruhiko had barged in maybe an hour and a half ago, hands pressed to his temples like he had a massive migraine, and all Misaki could get out of him was, “Room. Now.”

As of current, he’s kneeling and holding both hands with Saruhiko on his futon. They’re facing each other so that Misaki can clearly see Saruhiko’s concentration starting to fray to pieces, and he doesn’t know if the circles he’s been drawing on the backs of his boyfriend’s hands are helping.

Misaki had been more than confused when Saruhiko had first walked in, but now, feeling Saruhiko’s hands tense and relax periodically, he thinks he knows what’s going on: Saruhiko’s having trouble connecting with his aura.

He’s not an expert on Kings and auras, but he doesn’t have to be to understand that Kings can only feel at ease and tap into their full sanctum once they’ve made peace with their aura. The pattern’s been the same for every King he’s seen, whether that be Mikoto or the previous Blue King or the Silver King. He doesn’t quite know what the Blue aura’s like, seeing how he’s only had the vibrant Red power in his fingertips ever since stepping into the world of Kings and clans. He supposed it’s a little easier to use than the red one is; Saruhiko hasn’t complained about pain or violence yet, but that’s either because his pain tolerance is very high or because he’s already somewhat accepted his position and his power.

But _somewhat_ isn’t _completely_ , and Misaki knows Saruhiko knows. “Is it feeling any better?”

Saruhiko opens his eyes; they’re full of barely restrained pain. “Does it look like it?” he grits out, a sliver of annoyance in his voice.

Under normal circumstances, maybe Misaki would have been annoyed with Saruhiko for being annoyed with him, but right now, there’s a bigger priority. “Come on, Saruhiko, you have to accept your aura.”

”I’ve already accepted it!” What would probably have been a yell is diluted to a hoarse whisper as a low groan tears itself from Saruhiko’s throat.

”Then why is it still hurting?”

”Do you think I know, Misaki?” Suddenly Saruhiko’s hands wrench away from his to press at their owner’s temples, and Saruhiko bends over in pain. “Ugh... hurts... Misaki.”

Misaki’s panicking now; he has no experience with any of this, and he’s not a King, so he can’t help much, but he has an inkling of an idea. It’s arguably the worst idea he’s ever had, but it’s all he has to go on. So out of impulse, he reaches for Saruhiko’s face and presses his lips to Saruhiko’s, embarrassment be damned.

Saruhiko stills from surprise, and his eyes are wide when Misaki pulls away. “... What?”

Misaki ignores how hot his cheeks are burning as he stares into his boyfriend’s eyes, his thumb beginning to stroke over Saruhiko’s cheekbones. “S-Shut up, it was to make it stop hurting! Also, I think I know why it’s not working.”

”Why didn’t you say that before-”

“You have to stop trying to be Munakata-san.” Saruhiko’s eyes cloud over, but Misaki doesn’t let him look away because this is the only way for him to stop hurting. “Look, Saru, I don’t know much about this stuff, but... I think the aura’s confused. I think because you keep acting like the old Blue King, it thinks you’re him, and it’s rejecting you.”

”That doesn’t make any sense,” his boyfriend argues back, but he sounds less sure than he was a second ago.

”It does,” Misaki insists, desperately now because he doesn’t know how long until Saruhiko starts hurting again and fervently because he needs Saruhiko to _understand_. “It does, and you know it. Stop trying to be him, he’d never have wanted you to be him.”

”What would Misaki know about that?”

”Did he ever tell you to be more like him?” _That_  makes Saruhiko shut up. “See?”

”That doesn’t prove anything. The Captain-”

”Is gone,” Misaki finishes quietly. It hurts to say it, as he watches Saruhiko’s eyes widen, but it’s not something he regrets. There’s nothing wrong with grieving, but if it drives you to become the person for whom you’re doing it jut because you miss them, then you miss the whole purpose. Misaki made that mistake long enough with Totsuka’s death, and no doubt Mikoto did too, but they’ve both learned. Now it’s Saruhiko’s turn. “I know it’s hard. I know you miss him. But Saru, I’m pretty sure this is not what he wanted for you.”

”I’m not him,” Saruhiko insists, his voice raw. “I don’t know how to control this power, because I’m not him-”

”No ones asking you to be him. The Slates chose you because you’re Saruhiko, not because you’re supposed to be a replacement for Munakata-san.” Misaki takes his boyfriend’s hands, watching as they light up with blue from startled confusion. “See? This Blue is _yours_  now. Not Jin Habari’s, not Munakata-san’s. _Yours_.”

Saruhiko stares at his hands before he squeezes his eyes shut, his hands beginning to shake in Misaki’s grip. The room begins to glow blue as Saruhiko concentrates on summoning his aura, and Misaki impulsively presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead before resting his own forehead against it and shutting his own eyes. “You can do it, Saruhiko. Come on.”

Just as the glow becomes too bright to bear, Saruhiko whispers something like, _“It’s me_ ,” and a tingle rushes through their enjoined hands before the light begins to dim. 

Misaki opens his eyes to find Saruhiko already staring at him. “Is it... does it still hurt?”

Saruhiko must be dazed, because he shakes his head instead of giving an actual answer. But it’s enough for Misaki, so he pulls the Blue King into his arms. “Oh god, I’m so glad that worked.”

Saruhiko’s arms come up to curve around his shoulders until his hands are resting on Misaki’s shoulderblades, and Misaki feels him burying his face into his shoulder. “... Idiot Misaki.”

Misaki snorts- that’s what he gets for helping?- but he lets one hand card through Saruhiko’s hair until the taller relaxes in his arms. _There he is. That’s the Saru I know_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red camellia: love  
> Purple lilac: first love  
> Bluebell: gratefulness  
> Lily of the valley: promise of happiness


	3. Batalha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JUNGLE is quite possibly the most annoying thing Saruhiko’s had to deal with as Blue King.

Next to his more ridiculous clansmen, JUNGLE is quite possibly the most annoying thing Saruhiko’s had to deal with as Blue King.

Only two days after the last Strain that Scepter 4 secured, and there’s already been multiple hackings into their systems, particularly the Yuishiki System. Somehow JUNGLE was sending hundreds of their lower-rank operatives to hack into a system that’s only supposed to be accessed under the Royal Blue command.

But Saruhiko hasn’t activated it yet, because it’s going to do nothing except let the JUNGLE operatives in by way of his own command. And neither he nor the rest of Scepter 4 are willing to lose the Yuishiki System since it’s the most powerful tracking tool they possess- it’s what they would have found the Colorless King with if that boy Isana Yashiro had only taken care of his PDA.

But it’s one of the smaller fish to fry, because right now they’ve got a problem, which is JUNGLE’s increasing determination to get past the digital firewall they’ve set up. Between sending videos to HOMRA to mock them about Totsuka Tatara’s death and repeatedly drilling at Scepter 4’s security, their King’s also sent people to harass headquarters; it’s more than Scepter 4 can handle at a time, and even with Saruhiko’s fingers flying across the keyboard at practically the speed of light, it’s still not enough.

“Damn JUNGLE.” He clicks his tongue in irritation now, because another security breach just opened when he’s literally finished shutting down the last one. “So annoying. Enomoto, activate emergency defenses!”

”Right!” His subordinate types just as fast as he does, and within a few seconds, a button is pressed. “Activating emergency defenses! Security code 01845! King, it‘s not enough!”

That’s another thing- his clansmen have been switching between calling him ‘Fushimi-san’ and just ‘King.’ He’s gotten tired of keeping track of how many times they’ve switched, but he can’t think about that now. 

“It has to be!” he practically yells at Enomoto, just as an explosion rocks Scepter 4’s main hall. Dust trickles down from the ceiling, and Saruhiko casts a cursory glance at it although he’s starting to worry. They can’t keep going like this; at this rate, JUNGLE is going to be the downfall of his clan.

”Fushimi-san!” Akiyama ducks to avoid another spray of dust to stand unsteadily in front of him. “Permission to speak freely?”

”Granted. Get on with it.”

”Headquarters is not going to last much longer like this, sir. Allow me and some of our other clansmen to take care of JUNGLE operatives outside.”

Shock turns into worry before it turns into irritation, and Saruhiko regards his subordinate with an incredulous look. “JUNGLE sends people to do its dirty work through something like an online game. All the operatives outside are low-ranking subordinates eager to gain points to rise in rank. There’s hundreds of them all over the city, you never get all of them!”

”Maybe not all of them,” Akiyama insists, “but enough of them for enough time to get help from other clans or initiate security lockdown.”

”Akiyama-” Saruhiko begins to protest, only there’s something popping up on his screen. It’s a video, and he realizes belatedly  that it’s of _Munakata_. He doesn’t even have time to question it before it’s playing on its own, displaying Munakata’s video game form falling onto the ground and disappearing with the caption: _Long live the king_ , and a cackle not unlike a parrot’s at the end of it.

Fury squeezes Saruhiko’s throat as he clenches his fist to force down his anger, and looks back at Akiyama, who looks just as enflamed as he feels. “Fine. Permission granted. But the second things start heading south, retreat. That’s an order.”

”Yes, Fushimi-san!” With that, Akiyama hollers for Benzai, Kamo, and Fuse to follow him before disappearing out the door.

Almost immediately, his phone rings. Saruhiko sighs in frustration before signaling Enomoto to take over for him briefly. As his subordinate sits down, he walks some distance away as best as he can with the entire building shaking to kingdom come and picks up the phone. “Misaki, this is really not a good time.”

Misaki’s voice filters through the phone even before he’s finished speaking, and he has to hold the phone away from his ear because Misaki’s yelling. “Did you see what they sen- how dare they! _How dare they make fun at Totsuka-san’s death_! I’m gonna kill them, Saruhiko, I’m gonna kill them, I swear-”

“You need to calm.”

”How can I be calm when they did that?!”

”Misaki,” Saruhiko says, irritated now because he doesn’t have time to continue arguing with his boyfriend, “we got one too. Of the Captain.”

”Oh, _shit_. Sorry. Are you okay?”

”No, I’m not, because JUNGLE’s trying to hack into our systems and they’re unloading fire from the outside-” Saruhiko cuts himself off as another rumble reverberates through the hall, and Enomoto’s typing increases in speed as he yells something about security codes. “Misaki, we need help. Scepter 4’s under attack.”

”Got it.” There’s the sound of Misaki yelling something behind him that vaguely sounds like _Get Mikoto-san, Kamamoto!_  before he comes back to the phone. “Hang on for as long as you can, Saru, HOMRA’s on its way.”

Saruhiko shuts off his phone and shoves it back into his pocket just as Enomoto panicks. “Status report, Enomoto.”

”The emergency defenses are holding for now, but they’re starting to hammer at them. And there’s more of them, King. More of JUNGLE’s coming!”

Saruhiko curses under his breath and looks at one of the security monitors. Akiyama and Benzai are at the gate, back to back, and they’re taking care of the JUNGLE operatives coming through the gate. Kamo and Fuse are protecting the emergency barriers, but they’re not going to last much longer at this rate. There’s only one thing left to do. “Enomoto, keep doing what you can to keep JUNGLE out of our networks. I’m heading out.”

”What?! But King-”

“Do it. You can.” With that, Saruhiko runs for the door and through the hall. An instant before he reaches the end of the hall, he calls on his aura. _Come on, it’s me._

He can feel the tug in his gut not long after, and he knows his Damocles is suspended somewhere over Shizume City. Energy that thrums with fluid grace and agility rushes through his veins, and “Fushimi, emergency draw!” has barely left his mouth before he’s drawing his saber to combat the first JUNGLE operative that takes a swing at him. 

 _Give it up_ , he thinks as he ducks someone’s arm to pivot on his foot and slam his foot into their gut while guarding his back with his saber. _I know how you work_. He’s not sure who he’s addressing that too, but all the same he hadn’t expected to hear a reply that sounds way too delighted and sinister for his liking. _Fushimi Saruhiko, it’s been far too long_.

It’s enough to startle him, and so he can’t avoid his legs being swept out under him as he’s knocked to the ground. Teeth gritted, he brings up his sword in time to counter the strike that comes from just above him, from a JUNGLE operative that seems way too out of place here, if only because of his purple hair and the parrot perched on his shoulder. “Blue King Fushimi Saruhiko,” is the first thing the operative says, and it makes a Saruhiko narrow his eyes, “my name is Mishakuji Yukari. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

”Huh, well...” Saruhiko lashes out with his feet, making the presumed Yukari take a step back, and jumps to his feet, brandishing his saber threateningly. “Can’t say I feel the same.”

Yukari has the nerve to pout- _what age is this man, twelve?_ \- as he parries a strike before swinging his katana in an arc. ”Do stop it with that scary face, it’s going to give you wrinkles, you know.”

“I don’t care,” Saruhiko snarls as he ducks the swing that would have taken his head off and allows his saber to blaze with his aura before jabbing at Yukari’s side with his blade. _Misaki, hurry up!_  “You and your clan infiltrated my turf and violated the laws set by the Gold King. Tell me, is the entirety of JUNGLE the same as you?”

”Dear Blue King, _no_.” Yukari sidesteps his blow and brings the hilt of his katana down. Saruhiko can’t stop a grunt from escaping him as it hits his lower back and sends him to the ground. “That would be horrible. However, I will not deny that we aspire towards the same goal.” He hits the ground knees first, but he’s still able to block a strike with his saber until Yukari places a foot against his shoulder and pushes. 

His back hits the ground, and suddenly there’s the tip of Yukari’s katana pointed at his throat. “I must say, that protectiveness in your eyes for your clan suits you well; it’s very beautiful on you. But this is the new Blue King, a boy with the fighting capabilities of a child? Really, I’m disappointed.”

Even as Saruhiko glares at Yukari, he can hear his clansmen panicking as they try to decide whether or not to hold down the fort or protect their King, and he desperately hopes they pick the first option. His saber’s still in his hand, after all; he just needs to wait for the right opportunity. “So that’s what you expect, huh? For me to waste time and energy and skill on you? JUNGLE is comprised of fools, as I expected.”

”With all due respect, Blue King, I do believe Scepter 4 are the real fools here.” Yukari doesn’t move his blade a centimeter as he surveys the fighting surrounding them. “ ‘A house divided will not stand,’ or so I believe that American president said once. And yet that’s exactly what you’ve done.”

Saruhiko’s never been more unimpressed in his life. “Riveting conversation, thanks. Now is that all you have to say, or are you going to kill me now?”

”Kill you?” Yukari seems genuinely surprised at his assumption. “No, Nagare-chan doesn’t want you dead. Rather, he came to make you an offer.”

Saruhiko laughs, and he doesn’t even care about the blade at his throat anymore because the entire situation’s ridiculous. He’s only been King for twenty days, and he’s already getting an offer from _JUNGLE_  of all things? Yeah, right. He’s not so foolish to believe that the Green King doesn’t remember him from his middle school days. “You must be joking.”

”He predicted that you might say that. So he’s taken the liberty of speaking with you.” Yukari glances at the parrot on his shoulder, who leans forward so eerily it makes Saruhiko feel weird. “Blue King Fushimi Saruhiko, I’m pleased to meet you. I apologize for not being present in person.”

”Cut it with the pleasantries, Green King,” Saruhiko snaps, annoyed. “What the hell is this offer your lackey’s telling me about?”

”To join me.” Saruhiko freezes. “That’s right, I remember you. You were such a bright young mind, so intelligent and so suited to JUNGLE. It’s quite a pity that Munakata Reisi found a use for your talent first.”

The casual way the parrot- or rather, Nagare Hisui- drops Munakata’s name into the conversation angers Saruhiko to no end, because it’s as if he was exactly that. Casual. Munakata was nothing like that, and he’s about to speak up when Nagare continues. “However, I don’t believe it is a coincidence that we have been fated to meet again, so I shall offer you this: in exchange for joining me, Scepter 4 will be granted power greater than you now possess. With the Slates in Mihashira under my control, your power will be limitless, but that can only happen if you join me.”

”And Scepter 4’s security is ensured?” 

“Affirmative. You won’t have to worry about protecting your clansmen, whom I will value as dearly as my own.” The parrot lowers his head, and Saruhiko swears he can see a gleam in those eyes. “You have been been and always will be a valuable asset to JUNGLE, should you still wish to join.”

“Then... there’s only one answer I can give, as the Blue King.” Saruhiko shifts his head so he’s sure he’s looking into the parrot’s eyes with nothing less than contempt in his eyes. “No thanks.”

”You would refuse such a gracious offer?”

”You attacked my clan. You tried to infiltrate our security systems and incorporate everyone in our databases to yours for the sake of gaining more followers to your stupid mission. You treated the lives of Munakata Reisi and Totsuka Tatara as if they were games. To think I would join you after all that, you must be a bigger fool than I took you for, Nagare Hisui.”

”So be it. Dispose of him.” Then the parrot flew off of Yukari’s shoulder and launched itself into the air, screeching, “Dead meat! You’re dead meat!”

Yukari watches the parrot fly away before he sighs and turns back to face Saruhiko. “It’s such a shame. You could have been great, Blue King.”

”Being great in your eyes doesn’t mean anything,” Saruhiko grits out. These Greens are really annoying. “Not if it means watching a delusional King use his power for his own gain. Is it that hard for you to get?”

”Such beautiful last words. I hope I can remember them.” And Yukari raises his katana above his head.

”Saruhiko!”

Saruhiko barely has time to blink before a white, red, and green blur slams into Yukari and knocks him a few feet off while hollering, “Get off my boyfriend, asshole, I’ll kill you!”

Saruhiko doesn’t know whether to laugh and click his tongue as Misaki continues wrestling with Yukari; he seems to be handling it, so he doesn’t go to help him. “You’re late, Misaki,” he calls as he gets up to his feet and shifts the saber in his hand.

”Shut up!” Misaki rams his fist into Yukari’s gut before he jumps back and lands on his skateboard. Just in time too, because then a black blur is slamming into Yukari and prompting a _Kuroh-chan! “_ The traffic was really bad getting here, okay?!”

”What? Misaki’s following the rules now? It must be a miracle.”

”Oi, shut it! I saved your ass, didn’t I?” Misaki gestures around them. “Look, everyone else came too.”

It’s true; as Saruhiko looks around, he can see members of HOMRA surrounding his own clansmen- he really hopes Enomoto is still inside and activating defenses, because it looks like everyone in Scepter 4 is out now- and helping them push back JUNGLE. He chooses to ignore the way Kusanagi’s flirting with Awashima as he turns back to Misaki, sheathes his saber, and pulls out his knives. “We need to block the gates.”

”Way ahead of you, kid,” and Saruhiko turns around in time to see the Red King encasing his fist in a flame and punching the face of one unfortunate JUNGLE operative. He feels his gut tighten as Mikoto turns back around to face him with a twinkle in his eyes. “Go put your defenses up. We can take it from here.”

Saruhiko hadn’t quite learned how to thank his former King yet, so he just nods in gratitude. Before he can leave, though, Misaki spins him around and presses a kiss to his lips. “Stay safe,” the vanguard says gruffly, trying and failing to hide his blush, “or Imma throw you around HOMRA later.”

Saruhiko really needs to get going, but he cannot resist teasing him back. “I didn’t know you could be so straightforward, Misaki-”

”GET GOING, SARU!” Misaki yells in embarrassment, before he’s on his skateboard and ramming into groups of JUNGLE members. 

Saruhiko runs, his playfulness with Misaki fading to pure irritation as he swerved right and left and routinely tosses his knives at JUNGLE operatives who get to close. “You all are annoying,” he concludes, as his aura protects him from a grenade tossed his way. “I don’t have enough time to waste on you!”

At last, he makes his way to the defenses; Awashima’s there, with Kusanagi, and he spares a brief look at the bartender before turning to the Lieutenant. “Give the order to retreat. HOMRA’s handling it.”

Awashima nods, and draws her saber before running out. “Men of Scepter 4, retreat!”

”Fushimi.” Kusanagi’s looking at him with something that resembles pride. “The Slates chose well.”

The tension in Saruhiko’s shoulder eases a little as he nods again at the bartender before heading to the main hall. Now it’s his turn to say Scepter 4’s axiom, even as his clansmen are yelling it.

”We will advance with sword in hand, for our cause is pure!”


	4. Batalha pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”No need. They’ll be leaving soon enough. And make a call to the Prime Minister.” Saruhiko stares at the monitors, but he can only see the green parrot, can only hear Nagare Hisui’s voice in his head. JUNGLE’s planning something. “We have a lot to talk about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter will be kind of short, because I’m not feeling well, and most of what’s to come will be in the next chapter.
> 
> I’m also sorry if this chapter isn’t up to my usual standards; this is probably the worst chapter so far. I promise the next one will be better.

Kuroh’s breath leaves his lungs in a _whoosh_  as he lands on the ground, stomach first. His palm comes up to brace against the ground and push himself up until he feels the outline of Yukari’s blade against his back. “Kuroh-chan, it’s rude to interrupt an ongoing fight, you know?”

The katana against his back doesn’t let him turn back very far, but he looks back enough until he’s sure Yukari can see the glare on his face. “After attacking someone who’s only been King for less than three weeks, you have no right to say that!”

”Righteous as ever. I see that hasn’t changed since the days under Master Ichigen.” Yukari pulls back his blade, and allows Kuroh to stand to his feet. “But really, what is the Blue King to you? He has nothing you would want.”

”Per the request of Munakata Reisi, the new Blue King is under my protection.” Kuroh shifts his sword into both hands until it’s stretched out in front of him, angled to meet Yukari’s counter strike. “As long as I’m alive, neither you nor the rest of JUNGLE will harm him!”

”I must say, finding people to protect does wonders for your aura, Kuroh-chan; this is the brightest I’ve seen you since you were with your own King. But JUNGLE never intended to harm the Blue King; rather, we made him a proposal, which he turned down. Precautionary measures were necessary.” Yukari twists his wrist until the hilt of his katana is snug in his hand, and he brings the blade to his side before starting to run. “Time to face the music, Kuroh-chan.”

Kuroh barely has time to deflect Yukari’s hit before the older man is jabbing at his side. He jumps backwards and shoots out his hand, encasing it in the silver glow of his ability before sending it out to latch onto Yukari’s blade and toss it to his left. Yukari doesn’t let go of the katana like he expects, though; instead, he jumps as soon as Kuroh uses his ability to toss his sword away, allowing the momentum to carry him until his foot slams into Kuroh’s ribcage.

Kuroh’s hold on his ability falters as something cracks in his rib cage, and for a moment he curses Yukari’s hard shoes before the man is leaning over him, sword at his throat in the same manner that he’d threatened Fushimi Saruhiko. “Kuroh-chan, it’s like I told you before, your sword is devoid of passion. Without something to fight for, you cannot fight as well as I can.”

”I will not listen to the lessons of someone who threatened yet another King!” He accidentally shifts, and fire explodes in his rib cage. Groaning in pain, he rests the back of his head on the ground, biting his tongue to prevent showing further vulnerability while also resolutely ignoring the pitying stare of his former senior.   

“I’m trying to help you, Kuroh-chan. We may be in different clans and rivals in your mind, but you are still my little brother.”

Kuroh would like to state that, correction, he is _not_ Yukari’s little brother, and that he stopped being his little brother the moment Yukari aimed a katana at Master Ichigen. But everything hurts too much to speak, so all he does is release a baleful stare, never mind that it probably looks pathetic at the moment.

But even that doesn’t last long before the back of his head thumps against the ground again, and his eyes turn towards the sky. They catch sight of a familiar airship, and all at once the pain is replaced by longing that’s just as intense. _Shiro... you fell from the sky once. Now you’re up there again, you can fall again. You need to start acting like a responsible King!_

 _... Neko misses you._ I _miss you. Just come back already_.

”That’s it, Kuroh-chan.” Kuroh shifts his eyes, with some effort, to look at Yukari, who’s looking at him with a pleased expression. “Whatever you were just thinking of, whatever made your eyes go so soft... that’s what you need to fight for. Unfortunately...” Kuroh’s eyes widen in surprise as Yukari scoops him up, “... you are in _no_ condition to fight right now.”

“Yukari,” he says carefully, trying to avoid moving as much as possible, “put me down this instant.”

”Don’t be like that, little brother, I’m just taking you to the hospital. You can thank me later.”

Kuroh doesn’t want to be taken to the hospital by _this man_ , but he’s injured and there’s probably no one else able to or willing to carry his weight. So he makes himself relax in Yukari’s arms, amid the older man’s warnings of “Stop moving so much,” and closes his eyes.

 _He still acts like Ichigen-sama even though he says he hates him, huh_.

 

 

Misaki’s having the time of his life.

To be honest, it hasn’t been that long since the incident on the school island, but the months that followed after were tough for everybody, even those who weren’t involved with Scepter 4, and were enough to make Misaki forget about fighting. But now, he’s beating up JUNGLE, or at least their low-ranking operatives, and he’s never been so grateful for letting out his energy in a series of punches, kicks, and uppercuts.

Speaking of kicks, he spins on his heel and brings up his right foot to wham it into the stomach of another JUNGLE member. He does feel a bit bad as the guy falls to the ground and moans- he’s been told he has a pretty hard kick- but then he remembers that they consciously decided to storm Scepter 4, aka Saruhiko’s home, and whatever remnants of remorse he has just vanishes on the spot.

He kicks up a flame in the face of another one before he launches himself onto the skateboards and skids around on it, his power blazing from its wheels as he sends up a literally fire whirlwind to knock over the JUNGLE members that have surrounded him. “Oi, Kamamoto, try this! This is awesome!”

”Nah, Yata-san!” his partner or friend or whatever the heck Kamamoto is yells as he stomps on the ground and his hands burst into flame. “This is more my style. Take that, Green suckers! I’ll bury you in an avalanche of flame!”

”You’re not supposed to talk that much in a fight, _Bakamoto!_ ”

”Eh? But you’re talking?”

”Shut up!” Misaki shoves his skateboard towards a group of JUNGLE members nearly overwhelming Chitose and runs after it, balling his fists into flame and punching people one after the other until he catches up with his skateboard. Jumping on time, he yells, “Chitose, incoming!” and swings the skateboard around so that he’s knocking JUNGLE operatives over with the force from his body. 

“Thanks, Yata-kun!”

He throws a thumbs up before turning around and skating off, dodging people and punching JUNGLE in the face if he needs to. Mikoto looks like he’s doing well; Misaki watches him literally unleash a wind of fire upon the JUNGLE members eager to gain 100,000 points and rise up in rank from either capturing or incapacitating the Red King. Suffice it to say he’s enthralled, though he hopes that the previous Blue King was able to convince him before he died to watch his Damocles more closely.

His wrist vibrates, and he flips his skateboard upwards to slam into one guy’s chin before answering the call on his watch. “Saru?”

”Misaki,” his boyfriend’s voice is steady, if a little out of breath, “get Mikoto-san and tell him to call HOMRA back. I’m going to initiate Scepter 4’s security lockdown.”

”Got it. How long does the lockdown last?”

”Don’t know yet, but it needs my voice to authorize. I guess it’s the same for turning it off. Go do it, Misaki.”

”Yeah. See you around, Saruhiko.” Mistake shuts off his watch in turn to barely shift out of the way before one particularly tall JUNGLE member knocks him off his skateboard. “Watch where you’re going, bastard!” he snarls before jumping back to his feet and tornado-kicking the guy to who knows where. “Mikoto-san!”

Mikoto turns to look at him, cigarette in his mouth and never mind that there are five guys with tasers surrounding him. “Huh?”

”Saruhiko says retreat. He’s gonna put Scepter 4 on lockdown.”

Mikoto nods before he lets the cigarette drop to the ground and crushes it beneath his foot. He turns to eye each person with a taser in turn with what looks like smirk to Misaki. “Come and get me.”

The first guy foolish enough to rush at him goes down with a slight flick to the forehead; so lame. Misaki grins- that’s his King- before turning around on his skateboard and heading for the first HOMRA guy he can find. It just happens to be, “KAMAMOTO!”

The mentioned person turns around amid holding up a terrified JUNGLE operative by the collar. “Yata-san?”

”Get back to Mikoto-san; the Blue King’s locking down Scepter 4.” 

Just as the words leave his mouth, the Lieutenant of Scepter 4 raises up her saber and yells, “Scepter 4! Return to the King!”

Misaki tugs at Kamamoto harder. “Dude, just drop the guy, okay? We gotta go!”

Kamamoto looks back and forth between him and the guy he’s holding before tossing the guy a good several feet away and making for Mikoto while yelling, “HOMRA! Back to the King! No blood!”

”No bone!” 

“No ash!”

”No blood!”

”No bone!”

”No ash!” comes from the entirety of HOMRA, who’ve assembled around Mikoto and Kusanagi, the latter who smiles to himself before opening his eyes. “Well. Back to the bar, boys.”

They make it out of the gates before the gates of Scepter 4 close.

 

 

Saruhiko stares at the monitor, half in surprise and half in disbelief.

He couldn’t believe that had actually worked; most of the low-ranking operatives of JUNGLE still within the gates are either now trying to escape by climbing over the fence and head back to their King, or are still lying on the ground either from wounds or from the crushing disappointment of losing whatever points they’ve earned up till this point.

Most important of all, their networks are still intact, including the Yuishiki System. That counts as a victory in Saruhiko’s book.

”Fushimi-kun.” Awashima’s behind him, gesturing to the monitors. “Shall we take care of JUNGLE’s remnants?”

”No need. They’ll be leaving soon enough. And make a call to the Prime Minister.”

”Of course, but... for what reason?”

Saruhiko stares at the monitors, but he can only see the green parrot, can only hear Nagare Hisui’s voice in his head. JUNGLE’s planning something. “We have a lot to talk about.”


	5. council of kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He closes his eyes and clears his throat; when he opens them again, he’s not there as Isana Yashiro, but as Adolf K. Weismann. Mikoto can see that much. “Red King Suoh Mikoto, Blue King Fushimi Saruhiko... thank you for arriving on such short notice. I apologize for the prompt request, but... there have been new developments of which all of you should be aware.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, lovely readers! I’m back with another update!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who patiently waited; I’m feeling a lot better now. I’m so lucky to have such understanding readers, and I love you all.
> 
> Enjoy!

As soon as he finishes the phone call, Saruhiko plops his head into his arms and lets out the first groan he’s uttered since becoming King.

In the midst of the chaos JUNGLE brought with its sudden uprising, in the midst of pulling together the remnants of the Captain’s Scepter 4, he’s forgotten how much he hates this part. The Prime Minister is weak, cowardly, has a frankly overinflated sense of self-worth, and in Saruhiko’s opinion should have never decided to do anything relating to politics. And he’s downright annoying.

The Captain has been much better at this, he remembers, although every so often, he’d catch an eyebrow twitching, and now he knows why. Listening to the Prime Minister’s sheer and complete idiocy is enough to make any man go insane.

Speaking of the things the Captain had been much better at...

Saruhiko rakes his hand through his hair, blowing out a sigh because Nagare’s proposal is still stuck on his mind. It’s not like he’s been thinking about actually accepting; he won’t, not after everything he said and certainly not after everything Nagare did. If he’s being honest, it’s more the motivator behind offering such a deal.

He’s certain Nagare knows about his past with HOMRA, even if he had only mentioned the Captain in his speech; Nagare isn’t so incompetent as to not know his opponents down to the very last detail before roping them in with a proposition that serves as hook, line, and sinker, as to know exactly what to expect before he makes his first move. No doubt the Green King has an ulterior motive, but Saruhiko can’t help but wonder what Nagare could possibly want with a King that’s known for betraying once?

Nothing, Saruhiko answers for himself, unless Nagare is really that desperate. Unless the Green King believes in his own power enough to think that he can persuade a traitor turned King to join the clan that’s currently the most powerful one of the seven. It’s kind of ridiculous to think about, but it's a testament to the little interactions he’s shared with the Green King, that Saruhiko doesn’t immediately dismiss the thought that they think alike. That said, he’s not planning to humor the Green King with whatever schemes he comes up with.

His thoughts fly apart with a tug in his gut, one that feels entirely too playful and too nonchalant to be coming from himself, the Red King, or the Green King (he doesn’t know what the Gold King’s aura feels like; he’s never seen the man). It’s probably...

There’s a knock on his door. “Come in.”

Awashima walks in with a very unamused face; not that she’s worn any other expression while in the Scepter 4 uniform, but she looks even more unamused today if it’s possible. “Fushimi-kun, the Silver King’s returned-”

So that’s what it was.

”- and he’s requesting an audience with both Scepter 4 and HOMRA.”

Hell no, is what he would like to say, but Awashima’s giving him that look that says she knows exactly what he’s thinking, and, tacked on with the additional knowledge that it’s likely about JUNGLE and that he’s the one who knows the most about the Green King, it’s nearly unbearable. “... Where?”

”On the school island, in their main auditorium. The Silver King also requested to speak with you privately, afterward.”

She’s not going to see a reaction, because he doesn’t give her one- not one that she can see, anyway. There were rumors, when the Captain was still here, that Saruhiko had actually been his biological son, not just because of their physical similarities, but because of their similar mannerisms, thought processes, and poker faces. He utilizes said poker face now, keeping on the same detached mask he always wears to cover up the rising irritation that’s tinted with dread. “I see. Get the vans ready.”

“Yes, sir.” Awashima leaves not without a smirk to counter Saruhiko’s scowl; _sir,_ ugh. He hopes this doesn’t become a regular thing. 

 

 

Of course Fushimi arrived first, is what’s on Mikoto’s mind the moment HOMRA arrives at Ashinaka’s main auditorium.

Most of Scepter 4 must still be in the vans he saw outside, because the only Blues he can see in here are Fushimi, the Lieutenant, and two other people- one with a shock of orange hair and the other with... was that slightly green?- that he vaguely remembers seeing during one of the notorious red/blue clashes. The Lieutenant looks completely at ease, while Fushimi looks like he’d rather die than be here- it’s kind of laughable.

Fushimi’s always hated meetings.

The moment HOMRA steps in the auditorium, Mikoto can literally hear Yata’s excitement as the vanguard practically flies to join his boyfriend on the third row from the front- not that Mikoto cares, because if there’s anyone capable of making Fushimi even remotely excited about a meeting, or at least fake it, it’s Yata. He also doesn’t really care because it’s not like Kusanagi has much better restraint. The Lieutenant’s resolute determination to not acknowledge Kusanagi is admirable, mostly because Kusanagi hasn’t been able to pretend well enough that he’s not looking at her out of his peripheral. “Just siddown with her already instead of making heart eyes at her.”

Kusanagi blinks in surprise before he chuckles. “Nah. I’ve got to keep an eye on you and Yata-chan after all, Mikoto.”

”Quit acting like the responsible one, you’re not.”

”I own a bar; I’m pretty responsible.”

“Hmm.”

Kusanagi releases another chuckle as he turns on his heel, probably to somehow coax Yata away from Fushimi. Mikoto rolls his eyes before grabbing the seat beside him and sitting down. 

It’s funny that the Silver King’s the one who called this meeting together, and yet he’s also the one who’s late. Or, it would be, if Mikoto isn’t already as annoyed as it is- sure, he’s been late to some official meetings in HOMRA, and occasionally with the Blues as well, but he didn’t make it _this_ late. He’s sure it’s been at least fifteen minutes past the time they’re supposed to meet.

 _Oya? I never thought there would be a day when it’s you who worries about time, Suoh_.

Mikoto’s fingers suddenly itch for a cigarette, because that came from right beside him; he’s sure of it. He knows that he won’t see anything when he turns to look, because he’s done it one too many times already, but he could swear that Munakata is beside him in... spirit form, or whatever happens when people die. Mikoto likes to think that he’s moved on despite his grief from Munakata’s passing, but he knows he hasn’t, not really. If he had, then the tug in his heart wouldn’t be as painful as it was the moment he realized Munakata wasn’t waking up. “... Even dead, you’re still bothering me, huh?”

His words are not as spiteful as they appear to be; they’re endured with a warm affection that he doesn’t realize he’s still capable of feeling. He thinks he hears Munakata laugh- the ones where a huge smile lights up the man’s entire face, the rare relaxed ones- and the ache is slightly dulled at the same times that it returns tenfold. Mikoto doesn’t know how that’s possible; then again, Munakata is- _was_ \- the exception to most things. Mikoto resolves to stop trying to understand the intricacies of this situation and bring himself back to the present before anyone asks why he’s smiling into space like he’s lost his marbles.

Right on cue, the door opens, and in walks the Silver King, the Strain girl hanging onto his arm, and the Black Dog a few paces behind them.

The Silver King, at first glance, doesn’t appear to be changed at all, other than his attire. But Mikoto recognizes the tension lined in his shoulders and the exhausted but determined look in his eyes all too well; it’s not just about that pesky Green clan. There’s something else too.

As Kusanagi, with Yata and Anna in tow, sits down in the row behind him, he hears Yata grumble something about _this guy impersonating too many Kings_ , and he bites back a snort.

The Silver King beckons Yatogami over and whispers something to him. The Black Dog nods and leads the Strain off to the side, until center stage belongs to the Silver King.

He taps the microphone a few times, experimentally, and Mikoto finds it hard to believe that this guy housed the Colorless King and actually is the First Silver King. “Testing 1, 2.... oh good, it’s working.”

He closes his eyes and clears his throat; when he opens them again, he’s not there as Isana Yashiro, but as Adolf K. Weismann. Mikoto can see that much. “Red King Suoh Mikoto, Blue King Fushimi Saruhiko... thank you for arriving on such short notice. I apologize for the prompt request, but... there have been new developments of which all of you should be aware.”

Something that sounds like, _No kidding_ , comes from Scepter 4’s side of the auditorium, and Mikoto turns in time to catch the Lieutenant lightly smacking Fushimi upside the head. Kusanagi lets out a quiet whistle from behind him, and the Silver King’s lips twitch briefly before he continues. “I’ve just come from the Li- Gold King, Daikaku Kokujoji. He warned me that it wouldn’t be long before the Dresden Slates release themselves- or rather, their power- into this world of their own will. As wielders of that very same power, it’s our duty as Kings and clans to inhibit the chances of that happening.” 

 _Wait_. Mikoto clears his throat and feels every head turn to him as he speaks. “Silver King-”

”Oh, uh,” the Silver King rubs the back of his neck as if he’s embarrassed, “you can just call me Shiro, Suoh-san, as can you, Fushimi-san.”

Mikoto stares at him for a second- _sure, whatever_ \- before he continues. “Shiro... last time I checked, the Gold King was in charge of the Slates. So why’s the Gold King telling you all this?”

The Silver King’s, or Shiro’s, face falls at the mention of the Gold King as a weak smile plasters itself on his face. “Ah, well, there are two explanations, that kind of go hand in hand. The first one is, because I was the original researcher of these Slates and began this whole... mess of Kings and clans. And because I’m a fairly incompetent King”- here, Shiro turns to look at Yatogami, the latter who rolls his eyes even though there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his lips- “I asked him to share with me any updates on the Slates. The second one is...” Shiro pauses, his smile turning bittersweet, “... the Gold King has passed.”

Silence falls on the auditorium. Mikoto is, simply put, stunned. He’s only met the guy twice, but he had somehow got it into his mind that the Gold King was basically indestructible; he influenced the whole world, after all. For someone like that, to die at such a crucial time...

Fushimi, surprisingly, is the first one to speak; or not so surprising, since he’d only lost _his_ King nearly five weeks ago. Either way, his voice is uncharacteristically gentle. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Yata’s keeping his spluttering down to a low volume, but he’s still doing it. Kusanagi’s staring at the Blue King, and Mikoto can almost hear him asking, _Who are you, and what have you done to Fushimi?_  For her part, Anna just stays silent, but her eyes hold a soft glow.

Shiro waves off Fushimi’s statement with a small smile. “It was bound to happen, eventually. In any case, he wanted me to know it, so I could take over as guardian of the Slates, like I once was. But it seems JUNGLE got to it first.”

Someone shifts behind Mikoto; it’s Kusanagi. “Silver King-san, am I correct in assuming you are asking for an alliance?”

The Silver King chuckles. “Already seven steps ahead of me, huh. You’re right, bartender-san; now that the Gold King is gone,  the Green King Nagare Hisui has no reason to keep himself in check nor to keep himself from fulfilling his goal. So, he’s taken it upon himself to take and release the power of the Dresden Slates into the world.”

Shiro stops here, for a moment, and Yatogami comes to his side. “The Silver King requests that an alliance be made among the Blue King, Red King, and himself against JUNGLE and Nagare Hisui, in order to preserve the Slates as they should be and maintain the balance of power.” The Black Dog might as well be a King himself, Mikoto thinks, with the way he meets every audience member’s eyes and commands their attention. “Does he have your agreement?”

Again, Fushimi is the first to stand. His eyes are harder than Mikoto’s seen in a long while, although he gets the sense that it’s not directed to anyone on the room. “Nagare Hisui made me a proposal only hours ago, when Scepter 4 was attacked; he offered me guaranteed protection and increase of power for my clan. I refused, because I know how he works: he makes you an offer that he thinks you will not refuse, before he turns that gesture of goodwill into a means to an end of his own making. Neither I nor my clan will stand for it, so...” Fushimi commands the attention in the room the same way Munakata had, and for the first time Mikoto truly understands why the Slates chose him as a King. “Scepter 4 will aid the Silver King; this I swear as Blue King.”

” _Holy shit, that was hot,”_  comes Yata’s voice from behind Mikoto, followed by a smack from Kusanagi. Mikoto chooses to just ignore the antics of his clansmen as he stands up. “I promised this kid” - he jabs a thumb in Fushimi’s direction- “that I’d help him however I could. If that means taking down the Green King, who I hate anyway... then HOMRA’s in.”

He’s not sure if this is a smart decision, but it’s _his_ decision. It’s probably this that makes Anna smile like she is right now.

The Silver King visibly relaxes in relief, before he straightens again, a light in his eyes this time. “Then it’s settled. Thank you all. You’re free to go.”

 

 

 

”Fushimi-san.”

 _Dammit_. Saruhiko had hoped that the Silver King would forget about talking to him alone. Evidently not, because Isana Yashiro’s walking towards him in the body of a teenager, with the manner of a King. So he reluctantly stands still where he is. “Silver King.”

”Hey, hey, what’d I say about fancy titles?” Shiro jokes as he approaches him. Saruhiko can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed because he’s currently marveling at the fact that, due to his tall stature, he’s staring _down_  at the Silver King. It weirds him out, so he doesn’t think too much on it and inclines his head in response to Shiro’s statement.

”How are you doing, Fushimi-san? I know these past weeks haven’t been easy.”

Saruhiko looks into Shiro’s eyes- no pity (he hates that), but understanding and sympathy- and he finds it hard to swallow because _it’s true_. “I’m managing,” he finally says, because the Silver King’s actually expecting a response, but even that feels like an understatement.

However, Shiro does nothing but nod, and that’s enough to tell Saruhiko that he understands. “Well, in any case, you’re adjusting to being King quite quickly. I’ve called you here to tell you that, although I’m impressed, others are as well and they will assume you to be an easy target.”

There’s only one person who’s assumed that so far. ”You’re talking about the Green King.”

The Silver King nods. “I knew he would come after you, seeing as how new you are to this whole King thing, but I didn’t realize it would be so soon. You said you refused him once. There’s no reason not to believe that he won’t give you... incentive... to take his offer, especially if he believes that the benefits of bringing you to JUNGLE outweigh the disadvantages. It would be best to remain in your guard.”

Oh, Saruhiko knows, and it still makes his blood run cold. If Nagare’s that determined, what’s to stop him from going after individual members of Scepter 4? Or even Misaki? “I’m planning to.”

”That’s good. If you ever need my help, with anything, just call for me. I’ll be there, somehow.”

With that, the Silver King walks away, shortly joined by the Strain girl and the Black Dog. Saruhiko takes a moment to himself before he does the same, his steps on the ground harder than he means them to be. The faces of his clan and Misaki flash through his mind, and his hand clenches. _I won’t let him get to you. I won’t._

As he walks away, a green parrot steps away from the window and takes off.


	6. deep breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What?” 
> 
> “Like I said... for the past four times... the Green King won’t stop at anything to get me to join JUNGLE, and the Silver King warned me that he may or may not come after you along with the rest of Scepter 4, so you might need to cut contact with me for a while. Really, Misaki, have your brain cells given out already?”
> 
> “What?” Misaki repeats, dimly registering Saruhiko facepalming a bit harder than necessary.

“What?” 

“Like I said... for the past _four_ times... the Green King won’t stop at anything to get me to join JUNGLE, and the Silver King warned me that he may or may not come after you along with the rest of Scepter 4, so you might need to cut contact with me for a while. Really, Misaki, have your brain cells given out already?”

 _“What?_ ” Misaki repeats, dimly registering Saruhiko facepalming a bit harder than necessary.

It’s been two days since the Silver King called Scepter 4 and HOMRA to the meeting on Ashinaka Island, and in those past couple days, Saruhiko had been acting weird. He’d called Misaki not even an hour after the meeting had concluded and asked him if he was okay, if HOMRA was safe, if there were any jobs he  _needed_  to go on because things are getting more dangerous now, Misaki, and if anything happens you need to let me know.

Not that Misaki minds- if anything, he’s touched by Saruhiko’s concern- but getting 97 messages and 8 missed calls while he was with Kamamoto shopping for groceries for a whopping ten minutes is way too excessive.

So Misaki went and did what he’s still doing now, and that is ask Mikoto to ask Saruhiko to personally come over and tell him what the hell is going on before Misaki beats it out of Saruhiko himself, boyfriend or not. “Why would the Green King come after _me_? I’m literally not even important to him.”

”Maybe not to him, but...” Saruhiko chews on his bottom lips, deciding to word it a bit better either out of embarrassment or taking a precaution in case this conversation’s being listened on, “... there’s a high possibility he knows exactly who you are to me.” Under normal circumstances, Misaki would have blushed, if not for the look of utter gravity on Saruhiko’s face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he does.”

”Okay, okay.” Misaki pulls off his beanie and runs his hand through his hair, half annoyed at just making it even more messy and half trying to keep up with the speed of Saruhiko’s thought process. “So I’m not supposed to contact you ‘cuz that’ll make it obvious, I get that. But what if something happens to you and I don’t know, until...?”

It’s Saruhiko’s turn to run his hand through his hair while letting out a frustrated “Misaki...”, but when he looks up again, there’s none of the irritation Misaki expects to see; in fact, the only thing he _can_  see is determination. “Misaki, I’m your boyfriend, but I’m also the Blue King. I can’t cut off contact with Scepter 4 because I’m leading them, but I can with you, so you won’t get caught in the crossfire. If something happens to me, that’s a chance I’m willing to take.” 

Like he’s said before, Misaki appreciates the concern, he really does. But he stops listening at _crossfire_  because “Saru, I’m part of HOMRA. I’m _already_  in the crossfire. Besides I can-”

”-take care of yourself, yeah, I _know_. But Nagare doesn’t care about that; as long you’re linked with me, he won’t care.”

“So we’ll take him on together.”

“That’s not-” Saruhiko closes his eyes and releases a breath through his nose. “I’m trying to keep you safe, Misaki, why can’t you understand that?”

”I _don’t_ need you to keep me safe, because I can do it myself,” Misaki returns, acutely aware of the edge that frustration’s giving his words. “Why can’t you understand _that_?”

Saruhiko clicks his tongue in a manner similar to the days of their rivalry, and the fact that it’s aimed at _him_  makes it hurt even more. “You’ve always been like this, hotheaded and impulsive just because you’ve got your power. Your stupidity is going to kill you one day.”

“If you want me to die so bad, then don’t act like you’re protecting me,” Misaki retorts without thinking. Instantly, guilt hits him faster than a bullet train, and it’s too late to take back his words because Saruhiko’s breath turns into a sharp gasp and his eyes instantly cloud over. “Saruhiko, I didn’t mean-”

Saruhiko stands up and leaves without a word, and that’s not even the most painful part; it comes when Misaki realizes, the moment that HOMRA’s door slams shut, that every word he said must have sounded sincere to Saruhiko’s ears.

”Oh, no...” Misaki turns on his watch and dials Saruhiko’s number- no response. He tries it multiple times, and the answer is still the same. “Saru, I didn’t mean it, okay?! Pick up the phone, c’mon, Saru, please!”

But Saruhiko doesn’t pick up, and as Misaki sits on his futon, head in his hands, utterly defeated and nearly overwhelmed with guilt, he’s seriously contemplating storming Scepter 4 just to say he’s sorry when Kusanagi comes in. “Yata-chan?”

”Hey, Kusanagi-san.” Misaki doesn’t bother looking up from his hands as the floor creaks from where the bartender sits down.

”You two okay? Fushimi looked pretty upset when he walked out just now.”

Misaki groans- _I’m so sorry, Saruhiko_ \- and finally raises his head. “It’s my fault. He said some stuff, I said some stuff I didn’t mean, and then he left.”

Kusanagi looks thoughtful; why, Misaki doesn’t know. “Well, you know better than we do that Fushimi’s pretty sensitive. That means...” He nods towards the watch, “... if you’ve been trying to call him, don’t bother. He needs time to cool down.”

”I know, but... but... I can’t just let him believe that I meant it!”

”I don’t think he believes that, Yata-chan; he knows you too well, and I’d wager he knows that you were just frustrated. But you need to give him time, let him feel better before you apologize.” Kusanagi’s comforting smile turns mischievous, and Misaki has only a second to dread what he’s going to say before “And I don’t think he’ll stay upset forever; he likes you too much to stay away for long.” 

 _That_  has Misaki spluttering as he half-heartedly scoffs and attempts to get back some dignity. “Well... at least we’re doing better than you and the ‘Heartless Woman.’”

Kusanagi smacks him lightly on the head. “Watch your cheek, Yata-chan; Seri-chan and I are taking it slow because this is a serious relationship, although Mikoto disagrees. Anyway, you’ll get to see Fushimi later; the Silver King called again. He has a plan to take back the Slates from Mihashira.”

”Hah? Aren’t they in the Greens’ control?”

”They are, but the Green King doesn’t have the manpower to move them. Well, he does, but using anyone of his lower-ranking members would cause the Slates to go into a frenzy and release power prematurely. He’s left them untouched, for now.”

”Good,” Misaki mutters, shoving his beanie back onto his head and grabbing his bat; he can worry about apologizing to Saruhiko later. He’s got work to do. “And it’s gonna stay that way.”

Kusanagi just chuckles before he lightly pushes Misaki out the door. “Out you go, Yata-chan. I don’t think the Silver King wants us to be late for this one.”

 

 

It seems to Kuroh that at this point, Ashinaka is the setting for nearly everything important- whether that be the hiding place of the Colorless King, the war between HOMRA and Scepter 4 because of the Colorless King, or finding ways to bring down JUNGLE. It’s more an observation than anything, but Kuroh can’t deny that setting foot on this island makes him feel slightly unsettled. 

Maybe it’s the fact that he knows from personal experience that there is nowhere in Tokyo that can be kept secret, per se, much less from the Green King, who might as well have eyes and ears everywhere. Or maybe it’s the events that have transpired here. Or maybe it’s knowing that he’s not in a condition where he can protect Shiro like he’s used to doing if something happens while they are gathered here.

He winces from the slightly twinge of pain in his ribs; Yukari had well and truly broken his ribs during that fight outside the headquarters of Scepter 4. It’s barely been three days since the doctor had put a brace on him to support his still-healing ribs and told him to rest, but already his mind’s thinking overtime about the worst what-if scenarios and already his natural instinct to protect those he cares about has increased, and it’s driving him nearly insane.

"Kuroh? Are you okay?”

Kuroh looks up, then back down just as quickly. “You should be at your post,” he says instead of answering the question. 

“Meh. The Red and Blue Kings’ll be here shortly; they know where to find the entrance.” The white coat in Kuroh’s view shifts temporarily out of sight until his better instincts alert him to the fact that Shiro’s sat down beside him. “I’m more worried for _you_ , though. You’re still injured.”

He nods at where Kuroh’s been pressing a hand to his injury- when did he do that?- and Kuroh withdraws his hand quickly, never mind the slight sting of protest from his ribs at the quick movement. “I’m fine. I’m still able to protect you and Neko if it comes down to it.”

Shiro laughs, bright and clear, but at what is completely lost on Kuroh. _I didn’t say anything funny_. “I never said you couldn’t, but you don’t have to put me and Neko first every time, you know. If anything, I should be the one protecting _you_  for a change.”

A wave of mortification rushes through Kuroh as his cheek heat up against his will, and despite knowing his King’s words make sense, he’s not about to relinquish this debate so easily. “You’re our King, Shiro. You should be focusing on... King things.”

”Well, yes, but also to take care of my clansmen.” Shiro waves off his budding protest. “You need to rest, Kuroh. Don’t make me order you.”

Kuroh releases an irritated sigh and leans back, his irritation at not being able to do anything curbed slightly by Shiro playing with the strands of his hair, but only just. “If only you’d show the same dedication to your own responsibilities.”

”I’m working on it,” comes the answer in a singsong voice as Shiro decides to braid his hair; Kuroh vaguely wonders if he even knows how to, and if it’ll be necessary to impart Master Ichigen’s wisdom on the fine art of hairstyling onto his King. “That’s why I called Suoh-san and Fushimi-san here, you know, because I have a plan to take back the Slates.”

”You have a plan?”

”... I _might_  have a plan.”

That nonchalant answer that’s so typical of his King is enough to make Kuroh sigh again. “Such an irresponsible King.”

Shiro only grins as he finishes the braid and twists it- not enough to hurt, but enough so that Kuroh can see his handiwork. “You wouldn’t have me anything other way, Kuroh. Admit it.”

It is, quite honestly, the worst braid Kuroh’s ever seen- it’s uneven, there are somehow multiple twists within it that shouldn’t be there, and some strands of his hair which ought to be woven into the braid are left out- and yet, Kuroh loves it because a) it’s the thought that counts, b) it’s just so _Shiro_ , and c) what his King said is true. Naturally, the only appropriate answer is, “Stop speaking nonsense.” 

As he watches the vans of Scepter 4 and HOMRA arrive, Shiro’s laugh echoes in his ears long after his King goes to meet his colored counterparts.

 

 

Saruhiko needs to focus on something that’s not Yata Misaki at the moment, because he’s the Blue King and he has things to do, but even now, on the way back to Ashinaka, he misses the worried glances from his clansmen riding with him because all he’s thinking of right now is Misaki.

 _If you want me to die so bad, then don’t act like you’re protecting me_.

Saruhiko’s not going to deny that he’s still smarting from that, but what hurts even more is the thought that Misaki thinks this is all another act- like Saruhiko’s not genuinely worried about him, like Saruhiko doesn’t care, like he needs to put on an act in front of Misaki, like things are still the same as they were just this time last year.

They’re not.

And the day Misaki dies from anything except old age is the day Saruhiko burns down the world to avenge him; neither‘s in his future plans at the moment.

A sigh slips from his lips and he opens his eyes, only to blink in surprise because every single one of his clansmen is regarding him with a worried look. And because he finds it weird, he does what he’s always done every time someone shows him even a speck of concern: “What?”

“Ah... you were spacing out a lot just now, King,” Enomoto relents when it’s clear no one else will say anything.

Was he? Did that even count as spacing out? Well, whatever. Saruhiko clicks his tongue, and it seems to settle his subordinates into ease since he’s acting like himself again. “It’s not important.”

”Still, sir” - that’s Kamo- “you’re our King. We may not be able to do much, but we can at least make sure Fushimi-san is doing fine.”

It’s statements like these, coming from the clansmen he didn’t even bother getting to know when he was one of them, that catches Saruhiko off guard every single time. For them to willingly follow someone who was a traitor, someone who made sure others knew he preferred being alone, and going so far as to even concern themselves with his well-being was... strange, but not unwelcome.

Of course, he’s not going to let them know that, because pretty soon they might actually start hugging him and doing other dreadful things, so he eases their concerns with an “I’m fine” right before the van stops. 

As Saruhiko slides the door open, he can hear the murmurs of his clansmen asking if it’s okay for him to do so, and he rolls his eyes. He’s always believed in the ideal of doing something yourself if it’s within your ability, and that hasn’t changed since becoming King. 

The salty breeze of the sea by the school island fans over his face at the moment he steps out, and he closes his eyes for a moment to just listen to the waves breaking on shore a few miles away. He’s always wanted to go to the sea; Misaki knows, the Captain probably knew. Maybe, after all this is over.... Maybe, when all’s said and done....

”F-Fushimi-san?!”

Saruhiko gets probably about half a second to figure out why Hidaka sounds panicked before he jolts in surprise because there are _arms_ wrapping around his waist. He has to fight the impulse to draw his saber, and he’s glad that he succeeds once he sees who’s clinging to him. He knows only two people who have white hair, and he’s pretty sure the Silver King isn’t going to try and hug him- unlike this person. “A-Anna?”

The little girl looks up at him, face as stoic as ever except for the softness that’s been present in her eyes ever since he awakened as King. “Saruhiko needs a hug.”

Saruhiko cannot actually believe this is happening in front of his clansmen- who know very well that he has no clue how to deal with children- and he also cannot believe that he’s letting her do it. _I’m going to get so many questions after this, huh_. “I do?”

_(He knows better than to disagree with Anna, has known it from that time he tried to free her from between two vending machines amid their delightful conversation of “Why are you stuck?” “I’m not stuck.”)_

Anna nods, and Saruhiko isn’t sure if he’s imagining the way her arms tighten around him just a little bit. “Misaki didn’t mean it.”

Saruhiko knows she’s clairvoyant, so he really should expect this kind of thing, but every time she makes a statement about him, it’s unnerving. As it is, his breath catches and he looks up before he can stop himself.

Misaki’s the only other member of HOMRA who’s looking at him besides Anna, if apologetically and slightly embarrassed. And try as he might, he can’t bring himself to be upset at Misaki, not anymore. He knows deep down that Misaki didn’t mean it anyway.

So he nods in response to Misaki’s look before glancing back down and resting a hand on Anna’s shoulder before patting her head a little awkwardly. “I know.”

He doesn’t say _thank you_ , but he doesn’t need to, because Anna gets it. That must be why she’s still hugging him. “Saruhiko’s smart.”

This is really too much, he thinks amid his flaming cheeks, because he can see his clansmen trying and failing to hold their surprise in, and it’s better if they actually start doing what they were called here to do. “Hey, hey, I have things to do with the Silver King. More importantly, Mikoto-san’s waiting for you. Go on.”

Anna nods and squeezes one more time before she takes off, back to her own clan and her own King.

”I don’t believe it...”

”Children... like... _Fushimi-san?!_ ”

”Could it be our King’s soft at heart?”

”Oi.” It’s kind of funny how fast they snap to attention, or it would be if Saruhiko isn’t so embarrassed. “We have work to do. The Lieutenant’s coming with me. The rest of you, stay with the vans and be on your guard for any part of JUNGLE that might be listening.”

”Yes, King!”

”Yes, Fushimi-san!”


	7. power vs teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s not an ounce of hesitation in the Silver King’s voice, and it makes Saruhiko wonder just how thoroughly he’s thought this through- or if he has, at all. He has no doubts about Shiro’s position as Silver King, but in the end, he’s still the same scientist that ran away when things came crashing down around him- still the same naïve man who assumed everything was possible through sheer force of will. If this is how he’s planning to counter JUNGLE’s coming attack on Mihashira...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I incorporated some dialogue from the anime series. All credit goes to GORA and GoHands.

The Silver King’s not late this time, which is honesty a relief to Saruhiko; not that he doesn’t have respect for him, but it’s going to get unbearable if the Silver King insists on being late to every meeting that he himself calls.

As the Silver King- Shiro, he reminds himself- speaks with Yatogami Kuroh and the Strain girl once again, in a quiet voice, he casts a glance around the room. Scepter 4 and HOMRA aren’t sitting apart, like they usually do; instead, the auditorium seats are filled with splashes of red and blue all around, sometimes even going so far as to resemble camaraderie.

Of course, considering the history between Scepter 4 and HOMRA, that’s ridiculous.

Some of his clansmen look kind of miffed that ‘those annoying Reds’ are spread out in what they consider Scepter 4’s section, and no doubt some of HOMRA feel the same. But, if he’s being honest, Saruhiko doesn’t mind- not if it means Misaki can sit next to him and hold hands with him in secret like they’re high school lovers, not if it means having Misaki close to him in a manner similar to how they were in HOMRA before everything spiraled south.

As if reading his mind, Misaki turns towards him and squeezes his hand lightly. “Hey, Saruhiko... about what I said a couple hours ago-”

”If I let words spoken in anger get to me all the time” Saruhiko nods at their entwined hands- “then I wouldn’t be doing this. Besides, we both know you didn’t mean it, Misaki.”

”... Still,” Misaki mutters, because he’s stubborn like that, “Sorry.”

If Saruhiko was born a nicer person, he might say something along the lines of “ _It’s fine, don’t be sorry_.” As it is, he just rolls his eyes and says, while squeezing Misaki’s hand, “Misaki’s still an idiot.”

”Ex _cu_ -”

Saruhiko has no idea why he did what he did, but when he’d first thought about it, it had seemed like a good idea. Now, seeing how red Misaki is, and how his free hand is still touching the place where Saruhiko kissed him (on the _cheek_ , Awashima-san; I know my limits, you know) , he’s starting to have second thoughts about that. “Sa... Saru??”

And because Saruhiko’s great at reading social cues, he clicks his tongue and looks away like nothing’s happened, despite just knowing that his cheeks have at least some color in them. And then he sees the Red King.

Mikoto seems to be giving off the impression of ease, given how he’s practically slumped in his seat; Saruhiko would have fallen for that act if he didn’t catch Mikoto staring at them out of his peripheral. And it might be his imagination, but although Mikoto’s decided to put on a poker face today, Saruhiko sees sadness flicker for the briefest of moments in his eyes when he stares at them; it’s a look that he recognizes all too well.

The expression leaves just as quickly as it comes, right as the Silver King dismisses his clansmen to their seats and takes the podium. “Greetings,” he says, casting a glance about the room in the same way Saruhiko had. “Thank you all for coming. How is everyone doing today?”

There’s a chorus of small grumbles from the more rowdy members of HOMRA, but otherwise it remains quiet. 

The Silver King nods, either oblivious to or ignoring the awkwardness in the room. “I see. Well, anyhow, let’s get down to business.”

 _About time_ , Saruhiko thinks; judging by the way Misaki squeezes his hand while wearing a less than enthused expression, he’s thinking the same thing. 

Someone’s hand goes up in the air. “May I speak freely, Silver King?”

”Certainly, Kusanagi-san.”

“Now we’re going on the premise that the Green King will attack Mihashira Tower to steal the Slates that are under their control anyway. Are you sure about this?”

Kusanagi’s not just speaking for his own concerns; it’s a valid question, Saruhiko thinks. Whereas the Colorless King had played the wild card before, now it would be Nagare Hisui- he doesn’t want to think about what the Green King might do if he managed to obtain the Slates.

”Yes. And if they obtain the Slates, then the safety barrier that I worked with the Gold King to preserve would collapse, and the world we know would cease to exist. So that is why we cannot... we won’t fail.” There’s not an ounce of hesitation in the Silver King’s voice, and it makes Saruhiko wonder just how thoroughly he’s thought this through- or if he has, at all. He has no doubts about Shiro’s position as Silver King, but in the end, he’s still the same scientist that ran away when things came crashing down around him- still the same naïve man who assumed everything was possible through sheer force of will. If this is how he’s planning to counter JUNGLE’s coming attack on Mihashira...

Behind him, Awashima clears her throat. “Silver King, we’ve had all this talk about ensuring that the Green King does not get the Slates, but... we haven’t specified his goal. Surely he would not try to steal the Slates without a reason.”

”You are completely right, Awashima-san, and I apologize for not revealing this to you all sooner.” Shiro’s eyes harden just a little bit. “He may want to make Fushimi-san join JUNGLE for reasons of his own, but his main goal is to allow the Slates to pass their power to all mankind.”

Anna remains stoic, but anyone can feel the tension radiating off of her.

Mikoto’s sitting fully upright now, his eyes managing to balance both shock and rage in a sea of amber.

Awashima has gone still behind Saruhiko.

The Black Dog shifts in his seat.

Although Saruhiko‘s trying to comfort Misaki after feeling his hand tense up in his grip, he can’t shake the horror that pools at the base of his spine.

Humanity’s reckless- it’s unreliable, volatile, dangerous, and evil enough to twist the power that should be meant for good into something used for their own design or personal gain. How foolish could Nagare be, to know that and grant them that power? How naïve could he be, to not understand that there are _Kings_ for a reason, to not understand that not everyone is capable of handling the power of the Slates?

_(How insensitive could he be, to take the power that led to the Captain’s death and pass the burden of Kings to everyone who doesn’t need to be involved?)_

At last, after casting glances to the right and to the left, Mikoto breaks the silence. “I can speak for Red and probably Blue when I say we get that you’re Silver King- that’s been set. But I gotta say, I have my doubts- more about whether you can actually handle this operation.”

”With all due respect, Silver King” Kusanagi says, standing up beside Mikoto, “I agree with our King. I’ll say I don’t know much about the history of you Kings, but from what I’ve heard about you and matters relevant to the Slates... I’m not sure if you have what it takes.”

Saruhiko privately agrees with them, but he’s more surprised that the Strain girl doesn’t fly at Kusanagi when she yells, “I’ll have you know Shiro is amazing!”

Although the Silver King tries to settle her down, she’s not the only one to jump to her King’s honor; Yatogami walks to the front as well, with a hand pressed to his ribs, but his eyes are clear, never mind Shiro going “ _Kuroh! You should be resting_!” behind him. “Red King Suoh Mikoto, Kusanagi Izumo, I may sound biased, but this man is more than qualified for this task. He has the brains, the leadership skills, and good judgement.”

” _May_  sound biased, huh?” Saruhiko mutters, and Misaki muffles his laugh behind his hand as Awashima smacks Saruhiko upside the head- again. 

The Silver King stares at Yatogami a little longer than necessary before he smiles. “Thanks, Kuroh... and you both too, Suoh-san and Kusanagi-san. You’re both playing devil’s advocate for everyone; that’s pretty brave.”

Mikoto just grunts as he sits down again, and Kusanagi follows suit shortly after.

”There’s a simple reason why I’m directing this counter attack,” Shiro continues. “I know everything there is to know about the Green King Nagare Hisui.”

Misaki stiffening in his seat is all the warning Saruhiko gets before he jumps up. “Misaki-”

”Hey, wait a minute!” Misaki yells, slamming his hands on the seat back in front of him. “How’s that possible?! I thought the Green King avoided being seen in public! Don’t tell me you’re tied to them!”

To his credit, the Silver King waits until Misaki’s done- and until Saruhiko tugs him back down- to reply. “To put it simply... the Green King once challenged my friend, the Gold King Daikaku Kokujoji, all by himself. Recorded images of that incident remain intact in its entirety. The Lieutenant passed on the data to me, and I heard the details from the Lieutenant himself.”

”May I comment, Silver King?” It’s Awashima.

”Of course, Awashima-san. And please, just call me Shiro.”

”I understand.” Cloth rustles behind Saruhiko as the Lieutenant of Scepter 4 stands. “Shiro-san, if I may be frank, I can’t believe all this. Why would the Green King issue such a reckless challenge?”

Shiro thinks for a second. “Perhaps it wasn’t so reckless,” he concludes, looking thoughtful. “I say that, because although he lost in the end, at one point the Green King held his own against the most powerful King, and the fight was nearly even. And then, there’s his excuse of wanting to overthrow the Gold King in the first place, which was outright ridiculous. To quote his parting message before escape, ‘I wanted to beat the final boss.’”

“What is he?” Misaki snarks. “A kid?”

 _Not exactly, Misaki._ “The guy is messed up,” Saruhiko says aloud, staring straight at the seat back in front of him. _He’s not a kid if he never got to be one_.

“After barely running away from the Gold King,” Shiro continues, “the Green King dropped out of sight. His clan never made a move until now because the Lieutenant was still around. But...” the Silver King’s voice wavers a little as his eyes unfocus, lost in the river of his own thoughts, “... the Lieutenant is no longer here...”

Yatogami places a hand on Shiro’s shoulder; it seems to get back under control as he clears his throat and blinks rapidly a few times. “That’s why I’d like to command this counterattack. I know how to defeat Nagare Hisui; he’s unbelievably strong, but he can be beaten. It’s just that it’s not possible without your help.”

”I get what you’re saying,” Kusanagi interjects, doubt etched into his face, “but...”

”I’ll do it.”

Amid the whispers of both Scepter 4 and HOMRA, Saruhiko stares at his former King, wondering what made him come to a conclusion so rapidly at the same time that he realizes that Mikoto’s never seemed so worked up since the murder of Totsuka Tatara.

But once Mikoto makes a decision, he sticks to it; Saruhiko can see that resolve even now- in the way he stands like he owns the room, in the way his head is held high, in the way he stares right at the Silver King as if daring him to challenge his decision _(what Saruhiko won’t understand is just how personal this is to the Red King- JUNGLE is what made Munakata intervene to take Saruhiko from Mikoto’s hands, and the power that the Green King’s trying to release into the world is the same one that killed Munakata. Mikoto’s not letting this power hurt anyone else that he cares about)_. “Said I’d help; this is me helping.”

Misaki’s surprise is on tandem with Kusanagi’s as they both share a glance across the room and sigh in resignment at the same time. “Not taking a nap this time, huh? Well then, I have nothing more to say.”

Even from here, Saruhiko can see Mikoto roll his eyes at his second before turning to the Silver King. “Shiro... HOMRA’s in.”

”Thank you.” Shiro beams at them before his eyes slide over to Saruhiko. “What about the Blue clan?”

 _What about the Blue clan, indeed?_ If he’s being honest, Saruhiko doesn't want to. He doesn’t want to risk the lives of his clansmen for a cause that might fail anyway, under the guidance of a King that’s run away every time life got hard. He doesn’t want to come face to face with Nagare Hisui again, because it just means that JUNGLE is going to ramp up both its offense and its efforts to force him away from a Scepter 4. They need a plan- one that’ll cover both areas- which means, “Let me hear the strategy you have planned, and then I’ll decide.”

”Smart, Fushimi-san. Then let me get to that now.”

Yatogami turns on the projector; two faces appear on the screen, and Saruhiko recognizes one of them as the one who aimed a sword at his throat.

”Bastard...”

And he’s not the only one. Saruhiko nudges the rage-filled and practically vibrating human that is Yata Misaki in an effort to calm him down. “It’s fine.”

” _How_  is pointing a-”

Saruhiko nudges him a little harder this time, as Shiro begins. “The fight against the Green clan won’t center in Nagare Hisui, but these two... Mishakuji Yukari and Gojo Sukuna. Remember these faces well- our priority is to keep these two at bay. Now, to do that...”

 

 

There’s only a handful of people left in the auditorium, Mikoto sees, and that’s himself, Kusanagi, Anna, Fushimi and the Lieutenant, and the Silver clan. He supposes it makes sense, since they are the ones this pertains the most to anyway.

”I think the strategy makes sense,” Kusanagi’s telling the Silver King, who smiles in slight embarrassment. “Thanks, Kusanagi-san. You too, Mikoto-san; I’m counting on you.”

Mikoto just grunts, but his eyes are on Fushimi, who’s been quiet ever since the moment he’d requested the Silver King to share his plan to take down JUNGLE; he can’t help but feel a little worried about him. Fushimi had been put through a lot in the past few months with the death of his King, the near breaking down of his clan, becoming Blue King, and then trying to lead Scepter 4 _and_ take part in a three way alliance while being scouted by the Green King. 

It’s a lot for anyone to go to, and although having Yata next to him probably helps, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s all catching up to him. 

“S’a lot for Fushimi to take in, especially because he’s only been King for a month,” Mikoto finally points out when the conversation between the Silver King and Kusanagi comes to a halt. “You sure he can handle it?”

”Well...” The Silver King regards his Blue counterpart with a slight tinge of regret, “I do feel bad for bringing him into this, especially because he’s so young and new to all this. But he’s just as strong as Munakata-san, if not more, and I truly believe that he has what it takes to help us take down the Green King. If he falters, he can find help in you, Mikoto-san, as well as in me.”

 _Damn right he can_. “And what if the Green King decides to come after him, while we’re protecting the Slates?”

”For now, we can only hope that he decides to aim for the Slates before Fushimi-san. But if the inverse happens, we’ll be there to save him.”


	8. the plunge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kid, whatever choice you make, even if that means joining the Greens... you still have the Blues. You still have Yata. You still have me. But that needs to be your choice.
> 
> Is that what I am, then? A lifelong traitor?
> 
> You are Fushimi Saruhiko, Mikoto says simply. It’s up to you to decide who you are and what choice you’ll make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the really late update; college apps are a pain!

The night’s quiet, but there’s an atmosphere of tension laying thick over the guardians of Mihashira Tower.

The Silver Clan feels it, even though they’re stationed on the middle level: Kuroh’s tired, his ribs ache, and he’s mildly hesitant about pulling out his sword in fear of jostling the brace he still has to wear- however, every fiber of his being is on alert as he scans the night sky for even one glimpse of what might be coming. Neko’s anxious; she doesn’t want her another battle in which Shiro may or may not disappear, but she understands this is for the safety of everyone in Japan, much less the the world. Shiro pays no attention to Neko’s clutch at the back of his coat, nor the hyper vigilance that’s radiating off of Kuroh in waves, because he’s lost in his own thoughts- the ones that involve his sister and the Lieutenant. He dimly wonders what they would say to him, if they were still here, and hopes that bringing down the Green King can help him atone for his mistakes of the past.

For its own part, HOMRA thinks everything is too still- Kusanagi finds himself wishing that it wasn’t so quiet, that there’d be at least the normal sound of Tokyo’s nightlife out in the streets to ground himself. Kamamoto rathers that all this doesn’t have to happen, that everything could be solved easily for once without dirtying their hands over the protection of Shizume Citu and without casualties. Yata can’t stop rubbing the hilt of his bat as he glares impatiently at the door, while also trying not to kill himself with worry over Saruhiko- who’s alone at the top of Mihashira, he might add. Anna feels strangely exposed, despite being on the twenty-fifth floor and there being two other clans in the building; she just wants to go back to the bar. But she’s made her choice long ago, so she’s staying with Mikoto. The Red King himself tightens his grip on Anna’s hand as he tilts his head up, looking past the twenty-five levels to the night sky. After tonight, it’ll all be over; after tonight, maybe he can find some peace.

Awashima has no clue how the other clans are feeling about tonight, but she’s determined to win this battle. This power that the Green King wants to distribute to the world... it was the main factor of the Colorless King’s motives, of the war on Ashinaka Island, of what made her Captain die. It’s especially that last one that makes her adjust her grip on the saber until it’s firm in her hand; she’s doing this not only for him, but for Fushimi as well. He may be the King, but he’s also her friend, and she’d rather renounce her position as Lieutenant before losing him to someone like Nagare Hisui.

The night is quiet, but Saruhiko thinks it’s even quieter where he is.

The only occupants of the chamber of Slates are him and the chunk of rock that grants power to people deemed worthy of it, and frankly it’s disquieting.

What was the Silver King wondering, putting him in the same room as the Slates and giving Nagare the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone? Saruhiko supposes it makes sense- hang two separate worms near a fish and see which one it takes- but it’s not like he wants to be bait for the Green King.

And he’s nowhere near prepared. He’s only been King for about one month, which means he doesn’t have half the experience the Captain had in matters like these. The power that the Slates grant him can probably help him hold his own against the Green King, but he can’t shake the feeling at the back of his head that there’s something everyone’s missing- that the Green King probably has a wild card that no one knows about.

His hand tightens around Anna’s marble- his only source of communication- as he looks at the eerie green glow swirling skyward from the Slates. “All this trouble... just for a chunk of rock, huh.”

There’s no answer, but the split-second brightening of the Slates’ glow might as well be one; it returns his gaze with a fervor, as if challenging him to a duel only the two of them can settle, and for a moment Saruhiko’s tempted to plunge his saber into its heart right then and there. No doubt there will be very minimal effect on the Slates, but it’s better than waiting for the Green King to storm in here and take what he’s already marked as his.

Suddenly Enomoto’s startled yelp filters through the marble, and Saruhiko is so thankful that the second computer technician decided to stay in the vans instead of potentially giving away his location- and probably the entire plan. “The J-rank members of JUNGLE are at the front entrance, confirmed to be Mishakuji Yukari and Gojo Sukuna! They’re breaking in!”

Awashima’s voice joins Enomoto’s as she calls Scepter 4 to draw. Saruhiko takes a breath before directing his gaze skyward at the largest window in Mihashira Tower. _And so it begins_.

 

 

Dust trickles down from the ceiling as another blast rumbles through the building, and Kuroh casts an uneasy glance at it. “Is it really okay to leave Scepter 4 on their own?”

Beside him, Shiro exhales in a grin. “Don’t worry, Kuroh. I’ve told Awashima-san to retreat when the time is right. Our goal isn’t to defeat them head on, but to weaken their power.”

"... Before the Green King comes, you mean.”

”Exactly. Nagare Hisui is currently the strongest King, which means that he can be invincible if he really wants to, but he can only maintain this power for a limited amount of time. That’s why we have to use up as much time as possible; if we can manage to do that until he loses all his powers, victory will be ours.”

It makes sense; if you can’t directly beat your opponent, the next best thing is to wear them down before delivering the final blow. But, as Neko attacks them both with a hug and Shiro laughs at her antics, he can’t bring himself to feel the same optimism that they do, if only because his gut’s been warning him all day that there’s something else they forgot to consider, that there’s going to be a twist no one expected during this Christmas attack. “It can’t be that easy...”

”It can,” Shiro refutes, somehow managing to look serious with Neko on his back. “Let’s do easy for once, Kuroh; we deserve that much after everything that’s happened this past year.”

Most of the time, it’s not about what we do or don’t deserve, though. Kuroh’s about to say as much when Scepter 4’s computer genius yells through the marble, “Entrapment normal deployment confirmed! Move onto the next one!”

”It’s HOMRA’s turn now.” Kuroh feels a hand on his shoulder. “Have faith, Kuroh; we can win this.”

As the cackles of Gojo Sukuna echo throughout the building, Kuroh can only hope, as his hand tightens on the hilt of Kotowari, that Shiro’s right.

 

 

“Yata-san, this is not good! This is not good! The pansy’s already here!”

”I know, Kamamoto, calm do-”

”Did we manage to separate him from the brat?!”

”I think so!”

”You think so?!”

”Quit yelling in my ear!” The adrenaline in Misaki’s veins only increases as he skateboards through the hallway, and Kamamoto screaming right next to him isn’t helping.

Suddenly, a hand’s gripping his arm as Kamamoto yells wait, wait, wait in his ear and proceeds to almost make him trip over his own skateboard. “What the hell are you doing?!”

”Look!”

Misaki follows the line of Kamamoto’s finger in time to see that purple haired pansy step through the firewall door and wave. “Merry Christmas! We’re here for the Slates!”

”Not on our watch, pansy!”

”With or without your watch, we’ll get what we came for. Now if you’d just politely move out of the away-”

”I don’t think so.”

Misaki’s never been so grateful to see Kusanagi literally appear out of nowhere as he presses a button, nor so impressed as Kusanagi gets the cheekiness to wave back to Mishakuji as the firewall comes back down. “Kusanagi-san, where’s Mikoto-san?”

”Back where I came,” Kusanagi answers, jabbing a thumb in said direction. “We all should hurry back; this door’s not going to hold for long.”

”You heard him, Kamamoto! Let’s go!”

Even as Misaki takes off on his skateboard and charges full speed ahead towards where Mikoto. the rest of HOMRA, and the rest of Scepter 4 are waiting, he can hear Mishakuji lamenting something about ‘my fights being more beautiful,’ and he snorts. The hell does he think he is, a flower?

Well, Kamamoto _had_ called him a pansy.

Placing pressure towards the left side of his board, he arcs around Mikoto and Anna until he’s standing directly in front of him just as Mishakuji slashes through the door. “Then we’ll grant you your wish, so why don’t you stay here and wither just like a pitiful flower!”

The entirety of Mihashira rumbles even before Misaki’s finished speaking. “What the hell was that?!”

Mishakuji’s amusement deepens into a sinister grin as the air behind Misaki suddenly gets warmer, a sure indication of his King’s hands encased in flame. “What a shame, really, I was just getting warmed up. Unfortunately... it’s all over.”

”All over...” Kusanagi murmurs.

”Don’t tell me...” the Lieutenant of Scepter 4 says. “The Green King’s already here? He came earlier than we expected...”

Against his better judgement, Misaki’s gaze shoots straight up, looking past multiple levels up to where Saruhiko is. _The Green King’s here for either Saru or the Slates... we can’t let him get either_! “Oi! There’s nothing to be scared of! Who cares if it’s a King or a clansman, we’re gonna kick their asses anyway!”

”Oh, I like your enthusiasm.” Mishakuji takes a step back, that grin still plastered on his face, and Misaki can’t fathom why... “But please don’t get the wrong idea. When I say it’s a shame...”

“Yata-san, watch out!”

A hand pulls Misaki back by the collar just as a knife penetrates the ground and starts curving a circle around Mishakuji, who hasn’t broken eye contact with Mikoto. “When I say it’s a shame... I was trying to say that my work here is done~”

The pansy disappears into the ground just as a bolt of Mikoto’s flames roars past the place where he stood; Misaki turns around to see his King practically radiating flame as he stares not into the hole that Mishakuji’s left, but at the last standing firewall door. “Everyone, stay back. He’s here.”

A hand tugs at the back of Misaki’s shirt; it’s Anna, and she’s trying to put up a brave face even though she must be frightened. Misaki gently nudges her behind him and takes his stance as HOMRA and Scepter 4 watch the door, his anxiety increasing as an electric noise approaches the door. _This wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t supposedto happen, he was supposed to come later-_

Just as Mikoto envelopes everyone in the room in a shield of flame, the door explodes in green light as Nagare Hisui crashes into the room, a manic smile twisting his mouth as he sends streaks of lightning towards Mikoto.

Green collides with Red, sending everyone in the room but Nagare flying, and Misaki barely has time to curl his body around Anna before they both crash into the wall. Thankfully, Anna doesn’t seem fazed by her near death, but she does look worried as Misaki follows her gaze to where she’s looking at the Green King making his escape. “He’s heading towards Saruhiko.”

It takes a moment for Misaki to force back the panic that rises from those words, and every fiber of his being to not rush after the Green King in the hopes of getting to Saruhiko before he can, but all the same, he needs to get up there because his boyfriend needs backup. “We have to do something!”

Someone wraps a hand around his arm and pulls him up, with Anna still in his arms. “Mikoto-san, Saruhiko-”

”I got it. Stay here with Izumo.”

Before Misaki can say another word, Mikoto’s already launched himself up from the power of his aura and leapt after the Green King.

 

 

 

It doesn’t take long for Mikoto to catch up with the Green King; before he knows it, he’s practically shoulder to shoulder with him, and on an impulse he launches a ball of flame towards him.

Nagare Hisui’s placid smile never falters, even as he dodges it. “Red King Suoh Mikoto, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Like hell it is. “Green King Nagare Hisui, I’m not letting you get the Slates. It’s not meant to be your toy.”

Something in Nagare’s face darkens as his smile shifts to a smirk. ”I’m not asking for your permission, Suoh Mikoto; I will achieve my goal no matter what.”

“Then you’re gonna have to go through me.” Mikoto’s aura gives him enough of a push so that he is in front of Nagare, and he compresses his aura into a ball before pushing it outwards, extending it so that there is an inferno of flame that’s blocking Nagare’s path to the chamber of Slates.

Nagare skids to a stop, a thoughtful look on his face as he regards the burning sphere encasing Mikoto. “I don’t understand you. Why do you refuse to relinquish the Slates, which are under my power already, to me?”

The flaming ball that Mikoto’s in is a fair representation of his own feelings- about the Slates, and about Nagare. As he feels more of his energy run towards his fingertips, there’s only one answer on his mind. “'Cause to you, getting the Slates is only a means to the end that you pick; you don’t get to make that choice for others.”

“I’m afraid I do, Suoh Mikoto. See...” Nagare steps towards the burning ball of flame, “we Kings are not meant to be special, despite what everyone says. Why should we be the only ones to attain power that’s much higher than the beta class? Shouldn’t everyone deserve the same chance?”

“No one deserves anything in this life, good or bad; that’s what I say.” That’s easily the most convicting thing Mikoto’s ever said. “But if I had to say so, then no. Give everyone that same chance, and most of ‘em won’t use it like it’s supposed to be used.”

”And how, pray tell, is it supposed to be used?”

Tatara’s laugh echoes through the recess of Mikoto’s mind, joined with a strum of the guitar that he recognizes is the song Tatara always used to sing. Munakata’s smile flashes before his eyes, and he remembers the sole priority of the former Blue King. “For good. For protecting the people you care about. For making sure people like you who are willing to screw up the world to get what they want don’t win.”

”A noble sentiment, Suoh Mikoto, and I do believe it is one of those things where we’ll agree to disagree. Since we will never come to an agreement...”

Electricity springs to life in Nagare’s hands as a slow smile crawls over his lips. “... Then let the game begin.”

Mikoto blocks Nagare’s lightning bolt with a roar tearing itself from his throat, but he’s forgotten that the Slates are literally right behind a door of six-inches solid wood... which happens to be right behind him. Which means that in the span of their short conversation, Nagare’s been drawing power from the Slates to break through his Red barrier and fly towards the now open doors. “Fushimi!”

”I have finally arrived.” Nagare’s voice escalated into pure manic delight. “I have reached my goal.”

”Think again,” another voice says, and Mikoto’s never been happier to see Fushimi step out and halt the Green King’s advance by drawing his sword in an arc. Blue light clashes with Green hard enough to send Nagare to the ground, and Mikoto thinks he sees a smirk manifesting on Nagare’s face as Fushimi’s sword levels itself at the Green King’s throat.

 

 

Saruhiko feels surprisingly calm, considering that the guy who wants to wreck the world and assimilate him into JUNGLE is right in front of him and staring down his sword. “Fushimi Saruhiko-kun. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Saruhiko raises an eyebrow that he hopes conveys how utterly unimpressed he is. “Done ruining Mihashira yet, Nagare Hisui? Ugh, seriously. Blasting through the levels when you could have formed a more convenient plan... what an animal.”

”Trust me, Saruhiko-kun,” If it was possible for someone’s eyes to brighten even more than Nagare’s right now, this would probably be the time to do it, “I had so much fun. Furthermore, don’t all humans count as animals? We are all individual beings who are different and yet the same. Don’t you agree, Ameno Miyabi?”

Ameno Miyabi? Saruhiko’s brow furrows as he checks his mental list of names for an Ameno Miyabi: there’s nothing.

Then a cry from the ceiling catches his attention; it’s the Strain girl, currently clinging onto the arm of the Black Dog, shouting something about I’m Neko! “The Strain girl?”

“Indeed. She and I are the same.” Nagare spares her one more look before he closes his eyes. “We were able to escape the chains forced on us by the human race and redefine our own existence. This freedom is the possibility that humans should be able to acquire. And now, since I am the closest to this ideal, the Slates are and will be in my possession.”

”Say what you need to say, because I don’t have time for this philosophical crap!” Saruhiko barks, angry at Nagare’s ignorance of free will and rights but also at “ ‘I am the perfect candidate to manage the Slate,” is what you’re saying, right? Bold of you.”

”You are mistaken, Saruhiko-kun. One cannot forcibly manage the Dresden Slates; to do so would imply that the person does not truly understand its real purpose.”

”So, what, you want to let the Slates’ power run unrestrained because that’s the ‘true’ meaning of its existence?”

Nagare opens an eye that’s just as bright as the Slates itself, and just as serious. “There is no meaning. Those who possess power should be able to use it freely. That’s all.”

”Yeah?” _Seriously_ , Saruhiko thinks with a twinge of irritation, _is this guy just blind to everything around him_? “Well, look how well that turned out for you. Your power’s used up already, you’re basically useless now. I can just kill you now, and everything would be over.”

”Mistaken again, for I am not the one that you’ll be fighting.”

_Huh?_

“He is coming, the one I have prepared a path for. He is my trump card, held back by only my order.”

“Your trump card?” Panic seizes in Saruhiko’s gut the same time he feels a tug that’s neither his Damocles, nor Mikoto’s. But it’s someone’s sword, and that’s what makes him lower his blade in horror. _This was their plan all along_. “You mean-!”

In the face of Nagare’s smirk, Saruhiko can dimly hear Enomoto from the marble in his pocket yelling something about a new sword of Damocles appearing; he doesn’t need that warning- not when Nagare has literally just admitted a co-conspirator and certainly not when his mind is going into overdrive, trying to process the sudden influx information about the Kagutsu Crater. His grip on the saber slightly trembles, before he reaches into his coat and pulls out three knives. “... I see. No wonder you were so careless. That was because you had him, wasn’t it?”

”Fushimi-san! Be careful!”

”Fushimi! Get out of there!”

The Silver King’s voice as well as Mikoto’s come somewhere from Saruhiko’s far left, and all his efforts to locate them are in vain because of the fog that had crept in without him noticing. “What kind of sick game is this? Nagare!”

”It’s no game, Saruhiko-kun.” He’s sure Nagare’s still on the ground in front of him; he couldn’t have possibly gotten up that fast. So why does it sound like he’s coming from everywhere? “The one you know as the Gray King, Seigo Ootori, is my caretaker, and also the one coming up from the lower levels of Mihashira. Considering the path that I’ve opened for him, surely you know where he is by now...”

Two minutes since the fog set in, six since his conversation with Nagare started. If the Gray King was already there, even then... Saruhiko’s grip on his control falters as the faces of his clan, of HOMRA, of Misaki flash before his eyes, and his hand tightens almost instinctively around the hilt of his saber. “You wouldn’t dare.”

”Wouldn’t I?” Nagare challenges. “One must be prepared to make sacrifices for the greater good. What will yours be, Saruhiko-kun?”

”You’re bluffing.”

”Shall we test that out?”

_Fushimi_. It’s Mikoto’s voice, as clear in his head as it is out of it.  _He’s not bluffing_.

Saruhiko feels another consciousness that’s not Mikoto prod at this private conversation and he slams down a mental firewall before he answers. _Mikoto-san..._

_Kid, whatever choice you make, even if that means joining the Greens... you still have the Blues. You still have Yata. You still have me. But that needs to be_ your _choice._

_Is that what I am, then? A lifelong traitor?_

_You are Fushimi Saruhiko_ , Mikoto says simply _. It’s up to you to decide who you are and what choice you’ll make._

_... And if I join the Greens?_

_We will find a way to bring you back. Count on it_.

Every fiber of Saruhiko’s being is screaming for him to refuse, for him to drive his saber right through Nagare’s aura-induced heart and be done with it. The panic pooling in his gut has transformed to full blown dread. The blood roaring in his ears drowns out any thread of common sense he might listen to on another occasion, and after sseeing Misaki’s face in his mind’s eye, his choice is made.

He means to say, _No._ What comes out instead is, “... Yes. I’ll join you. Now let my clan, and HOMRA, go.”


	9. when all hope is lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The phantom dread curls in tendrils and crawls up his chest, almost strangling him, and he fights to urge to yell and cry like a little kid as he stands before a silent Mikoto. “Mikoto-san, Saru’s coming out, right? He’ll be out any second and everything will be fine, right? Right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I’m back!
> 
> I flew back on Sunday, but I was really jet lagged, so I rested on Monday. Here’s the new chapter. Thanks for everyone who waited patiently.

Neither Mikoto or Saruhiko are out of Mihashira yet.

Misaki huffs to himself as he skates around aimlessly in a circle, keeping an eye on the tower’s entrance from his peripheral instead of the Gold clansmen surrounding the perimeter of the building.

Since the Silver King has apparently called them midway through the attack, they’ve deemed it a national emergency- which it kind of is- and promptly arrived here in minutes to take their posts- or so Misaki assumes. They were ready here when he made it out with HOMRA and the rest of Scepter 4.

He has half a mind to just barrel through the human barrier that the damn bunnies are making, if only to make sure that Saruhiko and Mikoto are alive and okay, consequences be damned. Another equally reckless option is to sneak around the Gold clansmen and find a way into Mihashira to get them both out of there. He’s already seen a helicopter leaving with the Slates, and though he had released some colorful words at the loss, his boyfriend and his King are more important.

But it’s so frustrating, because those rabbits don’t let anyone except Kusanagi pass through them, and Misaki’s tried ramming himself against them before- not that it’s worked. If anything, their arms link tighter every time, and waiting for Saruhiko, Mikoto, and now Kusanagi is driving Misaki insane with worry, and the phantom dread in his stomach grows.

Then Anna, who’s been standing some distance away while also watching the entrance, gives a small gasp. “Mikoto!”

 _Mikoto-san_? “Mikoto-san!”

The rabbits part to make way for Kusanagi and Mikoto, the former five paces ahead of the latter and who is for some reason wearing a very strained smile on his face. As Misaki tries to go around him to get to Mikoto, Kusanagi pulls at the scruff of his shirt. “Yata-chan, take the boys and Anna back to the bar, okay?”

”Kusanagi-san, what the hell’s going on? Where’s Saruhiko?”

”... Just go back to the bar, okay? Yata-chan, listen to me. Go back to the b- Yata-chan!”

Misaki’s not listening to Kusanagi, because all his attention is focused on the object in Mikoto’s hands. The length of it is the first thing he notices, the dark cloth wrapped around it the second thing. The exposed parts of it glint in the moonlight, and Misaki can’t help but think it looks like...

Ever since he joined HOMRA, he’s never felt cold; there‘s always the heat of Mikoto’s fire to keep him warm. But now, a bucket of ice water might have been dumped over him for all he cares, because all he feels as he looks up at his King is cold. “What are you... Why do you have that?”

The phantom dread curls in tendrils and crawls up his chest, almost strangling him, and he fights to urge to yell and cry like a little kid as he stands before a silent Mikoto. “Mikoto-san, Saru’s coming out, right? He’ll be out any second and everything will be fine, right? Right?” His voice breaks on the last word, and it’s an effort to keep his voice under control. “Mikoto-san, say something. Say anything.”

_Say that everything’s fine. Say Saru’s okay, but that he’s taking forever because he has to climb through the broken building. Say he’s annoyed, but that they have a plan B._

_Say that what I think has happened hasn’t. Say anything._

Mikoto doesn’t say anything at first, but he walks. He doesn’t stop until he’s in front of Misaki, holding out what he recognizes as Saruhiko’s sword wrapped in Saruhiko’s coat, and every last shred of hope he has leaves when Mikoto looks at him and finally says, “I’m sorry, Yata.”

“No.” The world spins before Misaki’s eyes, way too fast for him to keep up, as images of Saruhiko push into his mind of their own will. “No, no, wait, I just talked to him yesterday. He... he couldn’t have...”

His hand finds Saruhiko’s coat and clings onto it, a parody of the way he used to when either of them were hurting, like it’s going to will Saruhiko to come back here from wherever he is. “Saruhiko, you can’t... you can’t do this! Not to the Blues, not to me, not again... don’t do this, Saru, come on.” _Come back_.

”Yata-chan.” Kusanagi’s hand is meant to be comforting, but all Misaki feels is something to ground him in the reality that Saruhiko has... that he really is... “Fushimi’s gone.”

Saruhiko in the days before the former Blue King’s death, Saruhiko awakening as King. Saruhiko’s eyes, his smile, and his laugh drift across Misaki’s mind in echoes. Memory upon memory of his boyfriend flashes before Misaki’s eyes as he stands there, one hand on Saruhiko’s coat and the other whiteknuckling his board. He can’t breathe, not when the memory of Saruhiko’s smell clouds his lungs and not when his chest is tightening with an ache that he doesn’t remember being there. He can’t hear anything over the roar of blood in his ears. He has no words to say, as his mind replays that moment against his will, except, “You traitor.”

“Yata-chan!” But Misaki’s already skating away- past Anna’s worried lance that he ignores, past the rest of HOMRA shouting after him, and past the rest of Scepter 4 asking where their King is. _He’s gone_ , Misaki wants to say to them, though he knows that even screaming it from the rooftops will not make them- make himself- accept the truth. Something warm burns behind his eyelids as he lets out a guttural sound and pushes his foot harder against the ground. He doesn’t even know where he’s going, he just wants to skate. He just wants to go back to a simpler time, where it was just him and his skateboard, never mind anything about stupid Saruhiko or Kings or anything. To think he believed that the two of them could take over the world- how on earth did he miss that it was never going to be like that?

There’s a sudden thud, and he goes airborne as his board flips over, landing back first on the ground a few seconds later. His knees sting with the impact of scraping themselves along the ground, but he barely registers it. He coughs and closes his eyes; he immediately opens them, because no way does he want to see that traitor in his head. “What kind of King betrays his own clan, huh? You bastard traitor! And I thought you had changed!”

Misaki completely disregards the small voice in his head that claims that he’s on love with said bastard traitor as he starts pummeling the ground while calling Saruhiko all sorts of names, his strength eventually dying down with a last, “Saruhiko” fading from his lips as his anger makes way for grief. He doesn’t cry- Saruhiko doesn’t need those tears- but he might as well, with how loud every fiber of his soul is calling out for Saruhiko.

His hands fist in the dirt, anchoring him, and he stays there in the dirt for what seems like an eternity. Then he takes a breath, squares his shoulders, and heads back to HOMRA.

 

 

 

“How is he?”

There’s nothing from Kusanagi but a sigh, but to Mikoto, that’s an answer all the same. “Not great. He’s been walking around upstairs ever since we came back. He didn’t even eat anything.”

To be honest, Mikoto doesn’t expect anything less. The first time Fushimi left, Yata had alternated between two moods for about a month- either swearing to bring down his wrath on every single Blue clansman he saw, Fushimi included, or sullen moods when he’d walk around outside for hours and look at old pictures of him and Fushimi until he couldn’t take it anymore. Mikoto’s not really an expert in this area, but he thinks this time is probably worse. “M’gonna talk to him. Don’t know if it’ll do anything, though.”

”Well, at this point, anything goes.” Kusanagi hands Mikoto a bowl and jerks his chin towards the staircase. “He’s not going to mention it, but he’s probably hungry.”

After poking his head into every single room above HOMRA’s bar, Mikoto finds Yata in his room, curled up on the futon he and Fushimi shared and facing away from the door. “Yata, I have dinner.”

”Go away, Mikoto-san.”

Mikoto probably would, if the nights of grieving for someone lost hadn’t taught him how to keep functioning like a normal human being. With Tatara’s death, he had acted just like Yata’s doing now; Kusanagi and Anna had basically dragged him out of that place so that when Munakata passed, he knew what to do. That’s the same lesson Yata needs to learn right now, and so Mikoto opts to step into the room anyway and set down the bowl of fried rice before sitting directly behind Yata. “I got something to tell you that might change your view on what Fushimi did.”

“He’s a traitor, that’s not gonna change!” Yata’s voice breaks on that last word as the boy curls himself into a tighter ball. “That’s never gonna change.”

“Fushimi joined the Greens.”

“Hah?Mikoto watches as Yata bolts up to face him, not seeing the little sparks he’s accidentally kicked up in his surprise. “He-he went to the Greens?! Of all the places he could go?! That bastard, next time I see him I’ll-”

“He didn’t have much of a choice, Yata.” Mikoto remembers Fushimi’s distress radiating through his entire being, too new a King to understand how to keep his emotions within the confines of his own person. “Fact is, the Green King kind of pressured him into making that decision.”

”What the hell, Saruhiko can’t be pressured into doing any-”

“Yata.” Yata’s mouth snaps closed. “Fushimi’s human just like the rest of us, which means he has things he cares about and people that can be used against him.”

The vanguard’s eyes widen slightly and his mouth drops slightly open. “Don’t tell me... you mean...”

”There’s a reason for everything he does. When he joined the Greens, it was to keep the Green King away from the Blues and away from you.” Mikoto’s legs are starting to fall asleep, so he shifts out of his crosslegged position and bring his knees up to his chest. “You can’t blame him for wanting to protect you.”

”But... I can take care of myself!”

”Well, Fushimi knows the most about the Green King out of any of us, except probably...” Mikoto trails off, his thoughts glancing towards the memory of a man with glasses and violet eyes, before he changes the course of his words, “... some other people out there, like the Silver King. If he thinks even you can’t win against the Green King, then he’s probably right about that.”

A half-hearted “Oi” drifts out of Yata’s mouth as the vanguard glances down, probably processing everything Mikoto’s just told him and figuring out where to store it in his brain. “What are we gonna do, Mikoto-san? Without Saruhiko, the Blues are gonna fall apart.”

”We’re gonna get him out of JUNGLE.”

"Eh?! The damn Greens are literally everywhere, though!”

Yata’s right, and the idea sounds crazy even to his own ears: he’d been planning to team up with Scepter 4 to help them get their King back, but even both clans combined don’t have enough people to combat JUNGLE, which has another King on their side. Everything about this plan seems rigged; surprising the Green King obviously isn’t going to work since he’s got spies literally everywhere, and fighting on Green turf seems way too dangerous since they don’t know the area. This plan is probably the most reckless plan Mikoto’s ever come up with, but he promised Fushimi that they’d find a way to save him- so that’s what he’s gonna do. “Would have thought you’d be excited to kick around the Greens.”

”Hell yeah, I am!” Yata almost knocks over the bowl in his excitement. “They’re gonna pay for stealing Saru!”

”You two are making quite the racket up here.” Kusanagi pokes out his head from the side of the door with a confused expression on his face. “What’s the news?”

”Izumo, call your girlfriend.”

”Kusanagi-san?!”

”My girlfr- eh, why?”

”We’re staging a coup.”


	10. whatever it takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nagare doesn’t respond at first, just regards him with a level headed look there sends another round of chills down Saruhiko’s spine. “As I’ve said before, Saruhiko,” he finally says, “all opinions are welcome here. However, do not forget the price for your defiance; in the end, the only people who will pay for it are your clansmen and HOMRA’s vanguard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the longest chapter I have up for a while, I think, because my school starts next Wednesday and I won’t have nearly as much time to update. So, dear readers, please be patient while I juggle school and this fic. Enjoy!

Saruhiko’s insides feel like they’re turning to mush, for a number of reasons.

It could be that he’d just fought face to face with Awashima and Kusanagi, where his poker face had almost shattered under both their gazes that screamed, _Why?_  It could be that the new Green aura _(he‘s never known that it’s possible to make another King your clansman until now)_  is still adjusting to the red and blue swimming in his veins, which could also explain the queasiness he feels right now. It could also be because, for the first time in a long time, he wants to have his Scepter 4 coat with him, to feel the familiar stiffness of it and he reminded of who he is, to his clan and to the people he cares about outside of it. But he thinks it’s the label _traitor_  that sickens him the most.

He hears that word in his head, yelling it with Misaki’s voice. He feels it suffocating him even though the dark green jacket he wears now is nowhere close to tight. He feels it branding itself on the back of his neck, the most prominent out of all the labels placed there; it powers over boyfriend, fighter, genius, even King, and Saruhiko’s blood runs hot underneath his skin.

He forces himself to pause his self-analysis in favor of taking in his surroundings. Admittedly, there’s not much to be in awe of, but Saruhiko sees sets of wire doors behind thicker, metal firewall doors not unlike those at Mihashira. Fluorescent lights dot the high ceiling, and frankly he can’t stop wondering how many stone pillars they’re going to pass before they finally get where they need to be. And there’s also the fact that they are far from being above ground. _I never knew there were underground passages like this in the heart of the city. They have tight security, and it runs deep..._

“Is everything alright, Saruhiko-chan?”

 Right, he’s forgotten that Yukari is only a few paces ahead of him, looking back with an expectant look. Saruhiko doesn’t particularly care about that look, and so he doesn’t give Yukari a reaction. “Don’t bother with mock courtesy; it makes me sick.”

”Ooh, so mean! But watching your tone might be in your best interests, Saruhiko-chan. See,” Yukari faces forward again as he continues speaking, “personally it doesn’t matter to me, and I don’t think it’ll matter to Nagare-chan either. But to others like Sukuna-chan, it’s a different story. Keep in mind that, within our borders, you are no longer the Blue King.”

That stings, far more than it should, and Saruhiko restrains himself enough from cursing out JUNGLE right there, although he’s sure Yukari can feel his anger from five steps in front of him. “... This place looks like a parking garage.”

It’s a thinly veiled attempt at changing the subject, but he’s grateful that Yukari takes it anyway- he’s not planning to thank the man later, though. “Mm. It’s a secret passage to our hideout. It connects to over a hundred exits inside this city alone, like main subway lines, the basement floors of skyscrapers, and such.”

 _For an operative of a clan with such tight security, this guy has no trouble running his mouth_. “Is it wise to leak all that stuff to me so easily?”

The reply comes immediately, devoid of anything but assurance. “Of course. You are now a J-rank of JUNGLE; you’re a comrade with whom we share our secrets.”

Saruhiko supposes that’s true, but he can’t help but wonder if Nagare has never considered the possibility of a J-rank turning against him, or simply just leaving. Nagare, he thinks, is either extremely naïve, unconcerned, or has just as much faith in his followers as they do in him- it pays to have insurance, but this is a whole other kind of foolishness. “... I see.”

”That was quite a feat today, Saruhiko-chan,” Yukari continues like Saruhiko hadn’t spoken. “You managed to take on HOMRA’s and your own number twos all by yourself. Very impressive, though you should have called for help; there’s no need to try so hard.”

This would be the part where he clicks his tongue, Saruhiko thinks irritably as he shoves down another biting comment. _How self-centered, or should I say clan-centered?_  “I don’t play co-op. I’m not a fan of that stuff.” That much is true, at least.

”Liar.” Saruhiko’s eyebrow raises in his own mind’s eye. “I know you hired U-rank member Hirasaka Douhan to work for you. By doing so, you were able to obtain twice the JUNGLE points allowing you to quickly move up in rank.”

If he was aiming to surprise Saruhiko, it’s not working; JUNGLE’s reputation is built on the internet, a video game setting, and points, so it’s no surprise that it keeps track of all its clansmen’s activities. Saruhiko expects that much of a J-rank, but not the comment that leaves Yukari afterwards. “Clever.”

”The system allowed it,” Saruhiko says, maintaining his bored façade if only to deter Yukari from saying anything like, _as expected of the Blue King_  or _your potential as a JUNGLE clansman is astounding_. “Is there a problem?”

”Of course not. I thought it was cunning and brilliant. Besides, our Nagare isn’t bothered by foul play.”

 _Your Nagare_ , _not mine_. 

“I actually believe he likes people to think out of the box. That’s our King after all.”

Saruhiko heaves an inward sigh as Yukari stops in front of him and pulls out a PDA with a lit green screen, swiping it near the door. “Anyway, here we are. Welcome, Fushimi Saruhiko. JUNGLE’s secret base welcomes you.”

Not ‘Blue King,’ but ‘Fushimi Saruhiko’. Addressed in that way to strip someone’s identity and replace it with an equally true one- the personal, intimate one that only certain people are allowed to know; it’s basically an disregard of privacy and respect. The knives in Saruhiko’s sleeves press against the fabric of his shirt as he holds his tongue and walks through the door with thoughts of HOMRA, Scepter 4, and Misaki running through his head. _This is for them. You only get one chance, don’t mess it up_.

That reminder, burned into his brain and seared onto his heart, is probably the only thing that keeps him from antagonizing anybody when he walks into a room and gets a faceful of confetti.

His mood further sours when he locks gazes with the Green King and sees a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “Thank you for coming, Saruhiko. I am delighted.”

That obnoxious green parrot echoes the King’s sentiments in the background.

”... Thanks,” is all Saruhiko can really care to say as pieces of confetti continue to fall out of his hair and as the Gray King offers him a platter of sushi. _The Green King eats sushi?_  “I’ll have the egg, then.”

The brat Sukuna makes a comment about that being for kids as the Gray King puts some on a plate, but Saruhiko can’t really pay attention to anything other than Nagare at the moment. “Saruhiko, you went up five ranks in barely a month. You’ve broken Sukuna’s previous record; it’s quite impressive.”

Nagare won’t see a reaction; Saruhiko’s had too much practice to let his poker face falter, but he admits that he’s surprised. _Has it really only been a month since I abandoned my clan?_

“C’mon, Sukuna, don’t be in such a bad mood,” the Gray King’s saying to the brat, who’s resolutely facing away from everyone. “First impressions matter in building relationships, right, Saruhiko-kun?”

”No, I’m fine. I’m not here to make friends anyway.”

”Well, why are you here then?”

Saruhiko meets Yukari’s stare with his own, unwilling to be the first to look away as he realizes that maybe only the three Kings present in this room know what went down at Mihashira. That’s fine with him; he’s not planning to go buddy-buddy with  Sukuna or Yukari. “... This is a game, right? I was curious to see what would happen once you raise the score to its limit. Don’t tell me this sushi party is the goal.”

“Huh.” Yukari looks amused as he tosses the parrot a piece of raw fish. “Even Kings need entertainment, is that what you’re saying?”

”You can only stand your subordinates for so long, especially if they’re all idiots.” Guilt crashes over Saruhiko at dragging his clansmen through the mud, but he steeles himself through it. “Speaking for myself, anyway.”

“That’s alright, Saruhiko, all opinions are welcome here.” Nagare’s eyes darken just the tiniest bit. “And to answer your quesrion earlier... of course not. Our plan will start from here.”

 _Our plan_. As revolting as being lumped in with the rest of JUNGLE J-ranks is, the implications of Nagare’s statement send the barest of shivers down Saruhiko’s spine. _Our plan to reform the earth and remake it in our own image_. Someone playing God has never appealed to him, but something about Nagare doing it heightens his disgust and somehow turns it into horror. 

As if reading his thoughts, the Green King meets his eyes and smirks. “I look forward to your work, JUNGLE’s top clansman... J-rank Fushimi Saruhiko.”

Every eye in the room is on him; even the parrot’s turning an inquisitive look on him. His jacket sleeves hide the almost imperceptible trembling of his arms, and yet his hands remain perfectly still. Blood roars loudly in his ears, but it’s nothing like Scepter 4’s mantra echoing in his head, nothing like Misaki’s laugh thrumming in his heart, and certainly nothing like the promise Mikoto made him just before this mess began: _We will find a way to bring you back. Count on it_.

He closes his eyes; when he opens them again, he’s somewhat back to the solo player before HOMRA, the one who managed to almost hack JUNGLE. He’s somewhat back to who he was before his name became synonymous with ‘traitor.’

”Just...” he begins, his voice somehow even though it’s tempting to let it tremble. “Just tell me what to do. No matter what mission you give me, I will clear it; it is so much easier than dealing with relationships.”

It’s easy to keep up the mask in the face of all the high-ranking JUNGLE members in one place; it’s harder when, hours later, Nagare summons him, and him alone, up to that same room and regards him with an appraising look. “I must say, the lie you shared with the clan earlier surprised me; it would have been convincing if I did not know you so well.”

”The deal,” Saruhiko bites out, because he has no time or patience for this. “Is it still on?”

”I am a man of my word, Saruhiko; Scepter 4 will not be harmed nor involved in any JUNGLE activities from this point forward. However,” in the light of the setting sun, the glint in Nagare’s eyes seems more pronounced, “the day you betray me is the day I give the kill order.”

Saruhiko’s breath catches in his throat before red tints the edges of his vision; the weight of the knives in his sleeves is staggering now. “That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

”No,” Nagare agrees, “but JUNGLE does not stand on the basis of our agreement. It stands on the promise of a world in which everyone is equal, and it is a promise that I have yet to deliver. If there are any who oppose me, it is my duty as King to strike them down. You understand.”

”No, I don’t. Managing your clan is one thing, but you don’t get to play judge, jury, and executioner for the world. You don’t have that right.”

”Rights do not mean a thing in the grand scheme, Saruhiko. I am doing what must be done for the sake of peace.”

”Peace? Go talk about peace when your people stop recruiting others to your cause through chaos. This isn’t peace you’re making, it’s an assassination of the world as we know it and replacing it with one of your making. It’s dictatorship.”

”Is it?” Nagare challenges, his voice rising in volume. “Or is it merely taking advantage of an opportunity I see to make the world better? Feel free to paint me as the villain, but rest assured you are the only one here with that perspective. Rest assured as well, that when I have accomplished my mission, you will be one of thousands to thank me for what I’ve done.”

”I’m not so low as to thank a dead man playing God for the sake of his own significance,” Saruhiko snaps, his white knuckle grip on his control slipping because of the ignorance exuding from the man before him. 

Nagare doesn’t respond at first, just regards him with a level headed look there sends another round of chills down Saruhiko’s spine. “As I’ve said before, Saruhiko,” he finally says, “all opinions are welcome here. However, do not forget the price for your defiance; in the end, the only people who will pay for it are your clansmen and HOMRA’s vanguard.”

Saruhiko can’t do anything but stare as Nagare turns to look out the window, the urge to slay this man thrumming insistently underneath his skin. “You may go.”

He only makes it just outside of the room, before his knees give out and he crumples on the floor, his hands clawing at the ground as his body shakes with labored breaths. Images of Scepter 4’s headquarters burnt to the ground, his clansmen’s bodies everywhere, Misaki’s blood on his hands flash before his eyes no matter how hard he shies away from them, and he presses the heels of his palms to his eyes.

 _Mikoto-san, I’m stalling for time; hurry up and get me before it runs out_.

 

 

 

”What?”

”I’m gonna ask the Silver King if we can borrow his whale.”

”What?” Misaki repeats incredulously, because one, that sounds ridiculous out of context, and two, ”Mikoto-san, with all due respect... how is  _that_ supposed to work?”

Mikoto doesn’t answer his question except with a shrug, and Misaki slaps a hand to his forehead and drags it down his face. “Kusanagi-san, you said you and the heartless woman saw Saru leave with someone through the floor, right? If they can do that, how’s a gigantic whale ship gonna help us get him back?”

”It’s actually not a bad idea.” Kusanagi sounds thoughtful as he places the wine glasses back into a cabinet. “Assuming JUNGLE knows about our alliance with the Blues and the Silver King, he’ll likely expect a repeat of what happened during Mihashira, only with roles reversed. Now we’re attacking and he’s defending. If we use the whale, he’ll never see it coming.”

“Huh. Okay, then.” Misaki sinks further down on the bar stool, propping his head up on one arm. “Is that Shiro guy going to let us, though?”

”Yes, that Shiro guy will let you crash his ship.” Probably everyone except Mikoto and Kusanagi jump as the Silver King makes his appearance, for once without the Black Dog or the cat girl; Shiro chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck. “It’s an old piece of junk anyway. So, Suoh-san, Kusanagi-san... what kind of plan do you guys have in mind, here?”

Surprisingly, Mikoto is the first one to answer. “Back in the day when Fushimi was still with us, the Green King liked to do ground invasion. The Greens would hold ‘meetings,’ to gather all their clansmen in one area before sendin’ them off on raids. That’s where I found Yata and Fushimi, in the middle of it. So I talked a little with Izumo, and we agreed that Nagare’s not gonna expect a diversion from the air. That’s why we need to crash your ship.”

It’s a while before Misaki can properly get over the fact that Mikoto is actually discussing battle strategies with another King, especially because it’s a known fact to everyone that the Red King’s solution to everything is to burn it. It takes the Silver King a little less time as he deigns the statement with a nod. “Divert from the air, with ground opposition ready... seems solid. Your only problem would be JUNGLE itself, though; assuming I’ve read your plan correctly and that you plan to infiltrate their base, you need someone to open it from the inside.”

”That’s what Fushimi’s for,” Mikoto responds. “Don’t know much about strategy, but JUNGLE is probably putting the kid on computers ‘cause that’s what he’s best at. It’ll be easy for him to open the gate, and then we’ve got to get him out fast.”

”That’s quite a gamble, Suoh-san, but it sounds plausible.” Shiro pauses for a moment. “Actually, this is perfect.”

Misaki’s so startled he falls out of the bar stool. “Ow! Wait, what do you mean, _perfect_? You got something else to toe this into, another plan?”

”Kind of.” The Silver King fishes out a single paper out of his pocket. “I’ve been doing research in my spare time, to see if there’s anything else that can stop Nagare Hisui. I borrowed a technique from my sister, Professor Claudia Weismann... it’s called the secondary methodology of schwert regulation.”

Misaki cranes his neck to see the paper that Shiro unfolds and sets on the table; truth be told, it looks like a kid’s drawing of a tornado with two huge arrows on the side. “... Oi, not everyone speaks schwert regulation, or whatever, you know.”

Kusanagi thunks him on the head; he’s still rubbing that spot and muttering underneath his breath when the Silver King answers him. “I know, sorry, I’m just thinking of a way to explain it to you without any confusion. This is a way to activate the resonance hammer effect on the Slate, which means that if every King in Japan unfolds their sanctums under special conditions, we’ll cause an irreversible change to the Slates’ own Weismann level.”

”Like the Kagutsu crater?” Kusanagi offers when the Silver King still gets blank looks.

”Sort of. Contrary to popular belief, our swords of Damocles can be manipulated to appear in a certain place, if we are strong enough to will it so and if our sanctums are not cracking. If Fushimi-san can get the gate to open, chances are that it won’t be too far from where Nagare is keeping the Slates. I’ll be going in alone to face Nagare, since his entire mission is to emulate my beliefs from 1944. Once I create an opening for the swords to go through, the result should be the same as Kagutsu, only without the extreme damage to Japan.”

Misaki likes to think that he’s grasped the basics of Shiro’s plan, despite all the words mixing and tumbling in his head because there is so much to understand. But halfway through, his mouth fell open and there’s only one question rising from the fogginess in his brain. “... Does that mean we’re losing our powers?”

Silence falls in the bar; out of the corner of his eye, Misaki sees Mikoto look at the Silver King, and Kusanagi quietly steps away from the counter. Even Eric and Shohei, the rowdiest of the clan, have stopped talking, as everyone in the room contemplates life outside the Slates’ powers and clans for the first time.

”... Yes,” the Silver King finally admits. “But if it’s to prevent abuse of power on humankind’s part and to take away the burden of Kings, isn’t it worth it?”

And Misaki loves the power that comes with being a Red clansman; he loves the ability it aids him with when he’s fighting on his skateboard and the thrill it gives him when he embues his bat with fire.

But if he’s learned anything in the past few months, it’s that power comes with a price; he was with Saruhiko during the time that Munakata was hospitalized because of the strain his power put on him, and he remembers Saruhiko breaking water glasses and crying like it was yesterday. To lose your King, the embodiment of a clan and someone you look up to, even care about... he cannot imagine losing a Mikoto like that. It’s something Misaki wouldn’t wish upon anyone, and he has no doubt that, if it wasn’t because of the Slates’ power, Saruhiko’s King would still be alive today.

So he nods, as does the rest of HOMRA- even Mikoto.

”He knows what Fushimi means to us,” the bartender reassures, after a side glance at Shiro, “and to the Blues as well. I think he’ll let us do whatever to get him back.”

 _Get him back_. Suddenly exhausted, Misaki rubs his face for the second time in a row. Even remembering what Mikoto said about Saruhiko’s betrayal, the part of him that never got over the first time has been screaming nonstop ever since Saruhiko left. Even hearing Kusanagi’s reassurances now doesn’t make the pool of worry churning in his gut go away, because all Misaki can think about are worst-case scenarios and they get worse every day. What if he’s being tortured? What if he actually decides to join JUNGLE? What if he _dies_?

Immediately, Misaki shakes his head so hard, the very idea of Saruhiko dying must have fallen out of it. _No, that’s not going to happen. We’re going to get him back, and he’s going to die an old man in his sleep, or I swear..._  

“Saruhiko won’t die.”

Anna’s voice rings clear across the room from where she is by Mikoto. Her hat is off for once, allowing her white hair to tumble loose and make her look younger than ever, but somehow her eyes hold all the wisdom of the world as she repeats herself, and Misaki finds himself envying the way she can be so sure of some things. “There are still things we can do. I will not give up.”

Shohei makes a noise of agreement from where he’s sitting with Bandou. “I didn’t know Fushimi-san that much, but he was still one of ours, once. And we HOMRA look out for our own, no matter if they leave or stay.”

As all of HOMRA go around voicing support to rescue Saruhiko, Misaki’s chest tightens with thankfulness. _Saru... please hold on. We’re coming to get you_.


	11. wake up call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are a King, Saruhiko. Wear that name like you’re proud of it, because you should be. With the power that the Slates grant you, you have the freedom to leave the world better than you found it, and there are none more willing than I to take you on and teach you how.”
> 
> “That’s true,” Saruhiko relents, because the Green King does have some good points. “If I stay here, I won’t have to deal with my idiot clansmen, nor submit to the whims of the first capricious King nor one who will end in destruction.”
> 
> ”Affirmative.” 
> 
> “Then the answer is obvious.” It’s the easiest choice Saruhiko’s ever made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the surprise character, y’all! ;) You’ll be happy, I promise.
> 
>  
> 
> For best results, listen to Missing Kings OST Mikoto for the entirety of this chapter.

It’s way too easy to walk out of his assigned room in the JUNGLE headquarters.

Saruhiko supposes it’s only due to his newfound status as J-rank, that he can roam around JUNGLE’s base and go wherever he wants  despite the fact that it’s only just after three in the afternoon. He has this same freedom in Scepter 4- had, as well, when the Captain was still alive- but now it’s just revolting. He thinks that maybe it’s due to the Green King’s rather twisted sense of freedom, and the annoying sunny dispositions from the Green clansmen.

In any case, he just wants to find the bathroom.

 

_First HOMRA- first Misaki- and then Scepter 4. Tsubaki-mon is littered with bodies from the Red and Blue clans alike, no different from the fate of the deceased civilians laying around the gates. Saruhiko wants to move, wants to open his mouth and scream- but he can’t do anything except watch as the scene before him dissolves into a pit of black._

_Then there’s a small green spark that blazes into a tornado, blinding Saruhiko even in this sleep, and he raises a hand to shield his eyes before he realizes that he can suddenly move._

_Everything fades back to black, and Saruhiko holds his breath because there’s goosebumps crawling up his skin, his heartbeat is increasing by the second, and he’s only ever felt this scared when-_

_“Monkeeeey? Where arrre yoooouuu?”_

_The blood in Saruhiko’s veins turn to ice as he clamps his hands over his mouth, muffling his breathing as his eyes dart from side to side trying to find the source of the voice. He can’t see anything, it’s so dark, and the voice seems to be coming from everywhere._

_“That’s so mean, my little monkey. Daddy just wants to play with you; won’t that be fun?”_

_Saruhiko’s knees give out and he crumples onto whatever he’s been standing on, and his hands move from his mouth to his ears. The world seems to shake even though Saruhiko can’t see or feel anything other than darkness, and his throat burns with the effort of expelling air from it before he loses his control and screams for help._

_Suddenly, larger, rougher hands are covering Saruhiko’s own and easing them away from his ears in a gentleness that does nothing to prepare Saruhiko for the voice right next to his ear. “Found you, monkey.”_

You’re not real, _Saruhiko thinks desperstely as his head races at the speed of light to find an escape, to find the loophole in this nightmare._ You died. You died years ago.

_“You’re going to be with Daddy forever, isn’t that nice? We’ll get to play hide-and-seek allll the tiime.”_

_Saruhiko shakes his head vehemently, never mind that his face is wet with tears, and a whimper escapes him before he can stop it._ Help me. Someone... Misaki... help me.

_“I’ve got a story for you, monkey; want to hear it?”_

_”No!” Saruhiko finally bites out, more a sob than a growl like he intended, wrestling away that man’s arms and backing away from the voice only to be grabbed from behind by that same chuckle that haunted his childhood. That man’s not touching him now, and yet Saruhiko feels the print of his father’s arms seared into his body; it wrenches another round of yelling Misaki’s name until his voice breaks on the last syllable._

_”There was,” his father begins, a malicious grin in every word, “a little monkey who had his own monkey kingdom. It was a good kingdom, and the little monkey thought everything was good.”_

_Childhood memories slam into Saruhiko with the force of a bullet train- memories of a broken Rubik’s cube, the shattered ant farm, the ashes of his favorite books scattered around his bedroom floor, that man threatening to shove an insect into Misaki’s mouth- and Saruhiko twists his fingers into his hair and pulls as he squeezes his eyes shut._

_”But the other monkeys began to grow tired of the little monkey, who never played with them, who didn’t want to climb trees with them, and never wanted to do anything with them. They began to hate him. And so, when the big bad Green kingdom came to whisk him away, some of them began to wonder... was the little monkey even one of them?”_

_Saruhiko presses the heels of his palms into his eyes as his father’s venomous voice slid into his thoughts like a knife between his ribs like nothing has ever changed. No, no, no, no, no._

_“So they began to tell that little monkey’s best friend, he can’t be our king. No- we don’t belieeeeve that he is one of us. He only sides with the winner and he’s willing to win even if he becomes a **traitor**.”_

_Traitor! in Misaki’s yells. Traitor! in Mikoto’s silence. Traitor! in the faces of Scepter 4._

_”And then, even his friend- his only friend in the entire world- began to wonder... and before the little monkey knew it, his whole kingdom came crashing down when the big bad Greens attacked... and everything BUUUURRRNNNEED!”_

 

Saruhiko shakes off the remnants of his dream with a shudder, and in his haste to shy away from his father’s voice in his ear, his hand shoots out flat against an open door- and he falls into the bathroom.

He catches himself by grabbing onto the edge of sink before he can face plant into the wall opposite of him, and slowly reaches behind him to lock the door. Only then does he bother to maneuver himself in front of the sink, take off his glasses, and bring up his shaky hands to splash water of his face. 

He looks up, water droplets still clinging to his skin, before he forgets the reason why he refuses to stare into a mirror without his glasses on; his father’s face stares back at him with a grin even though Saruhiko isn’t smiling, and he ducks his head and squeezes his eyes shut once more. _Why do I have to look like him?_

_”You may have your father’s features, but you’ve never looked more different than him to me.”_

Saruhiko stills, every fiber of his soul thrumming in recognition as he raises his head and sees _him_ ; a broken gasp jerks his way out of him as he tries to figure out whether the ache in his chest is from joy or pain before throwing it all out the window. “... Captain?”

In the mirror, just behind him, Munakata Reisi smiles, and it’s simultaneously the most joyful and most painful thing ever. “Hello, Fushimi-kun.”

Saruhiko’s breath leaves him in a _whoosh_  as he blinks back the moisture from his eyes and tries- really tries- to look annoyed with the man in the mirror, although it’s not working if the Captain’s smile is anything to go by. “I thought... aren’t you...?”

The Captain chuckles a little. “I am, still, but you seemed to be in some distress. I imagined my presence might bring somewhat of a comfort to you.”

It does, but the words stick in his throat, and Saruhiko can’t find it in himself to just say it, so he settles for, “What happened to ‘a week’? You said you had a week.”

Munakata’s smile falters a little, and despite still looking the same as when he was alive, centuries of age seemed to have piled on his shoulders now. “I did not intend to leave so early, but... some things cannot be planned. In any case, I am glad Scepter 4 is in such capable hands.”

”I didn’t ask to be those hands,” Saruhiko says bitterly, not quite a snap but not quite a level tone either. “I didn’t ask to be the Blue King, and I didn’t ask for everything thst I’ve had to handle these past months. I can’t-” he cuts himself off with a hiss, pushing every emotion rising to the surface back down before he continues. “I _tried_. I tried and it only ended with me becoming the traitor _again_.”

Silence. It stretches on for so long that Saruhiko’s begun to think he’s going insane before the Captain speaks again. “Fushimi-kun, look at me.”

Saruhiko isn’t sure why Munakata sounds like he’s coming from behind him, but he turns around anyway, and his breath catches. The Captain is _there_ , smile toned down until it looks almost soft, holding Saruhiko’s glasses that Saruhiko doesn’t remember him taking. “Fushimi-kun, I am truly sorry that the burden of Kings fell upon your shoulders; it’s not an easy thing to bear, I know, and I would take your place if I could. But believe me when I say that... the Slates have never chosen someone more worthy than you to be King.”

“Like you would know,” Saruhiko mutters darkly.

”I would. ‘Traitor’ is the name you’ve chosen for yourself, but in the years I have known you, I have never once considered you one. Neither did Suoh, for that matter.” Munakata’s eyes dim a bit in sorrow, but it’s only fleeting and the Captain locks gazes with Saruhiko again confidently before he can question it.

“... Why?” His question comes out in a whisper. “Why are you so hell bent on insisting that I’m enough to be a King?” 

The Captain takes a step closer to him, gauging his reaction, before taking another. And another. And another until he’s directly in front of Saruhiko and raising his hands to slide Saruhiko’s glasses into place. “Because,” he says as he’s doing so, “you are an individual who will never be tainted from the Slates’ corruption because you know how to use power responsibly. Because the Fushimi Saruhiko I know is an intelligent man who’s never forgotten how to be kind to the world even though the world has never been kind to you. That was why I accepted you into Scepter 4, and, I’m certain, is the reason why the Slates chose you.”

Saruhiko blinks and the world slides back into focus, which means that the way Munakata looks at him- like he’s _proud_  of him- is crystal clear, and he just knows that nothing he can say or do is going to make Munakata think that his pride is misplaced. “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”

”You already know what to do, Fushimi-kun. And in the times you truly do not know, I will be there to help you. I promise you this.” 

Munakata is already fading before his eyes, and on a sudden impulse, Saruhiko steps forward and wraps his arms around the Captain. It’s foolish, Saruhiko knows, but he lets himself have this because he doesn’t think the chance will come again. “Captain, don’t go.” _Not again._

He feels the Captain smile and a hand presses once against the back of his head, gently. “I would never do such a thing to you.”

Munakata’s form disappears entirely, leaving him alone in the bathroom with his arms curled around air, but as Saruhiko lets his arms drop back to his sides and heads on his way back to his room, he knows that it’s the truth.

 _You already know what to do, Fushimi-kun._ Saruhiko stops in his tracks- considering, weighing his next decision like his life depends on it. 

Then, with glances to either side of him and behind him, he turns left.

 It’s pathetically easy to get into the ground control operations room, so much so that Saruhiko doesn’t feel relaxed until he’s gotten in and searched the entire room thrice for any bugs that might be planted there because, as everyone knows, the Green King sees everything. And yet, Saruhiko thinks as he sits down, it still doesn’t feel enough.

He connects his PDA to the ground control monitors; the first thing that jumps out at him is the Red King’s Weismann level- only at 28% and already overpowering the lower-ranking guards that he just knows Nagare has outside. The second thing he notices is a small silver dot slowly making its way away from the tangle of Red and Green dots and closer towards a red pulsing point that Saruhiko recognizes as the room where the Slates are. _”Color coded for your convenience,” huh? What an idiot_.

Saruhiko rolls his eyes as he shifts his PDA to one hand and his free hand to the keyboard, fingers moving across the keyboard as he murmurs to himself. “Security code A5158. Connecting to gate operating control in three, two, one...”

Not a noise louder than a click is made as his PDA connects with the computers, which in turn connects to the gate operating system. A ring of circles of varying size pop on the screen of his PDA, swilling around as the device begins to prepare the gate for opening.

5%. Saruhiko clicks his tongue in annoyance, but waits, staring at the screen until the percentage reaches 20%, 30%, then 35%. It works faster than he anticipated, and in a grand total of seven minutes, the process is all but done, and he makes to open to open the gate.

”You work fast, Saruhiko.”

Saruhiko’s hand hovers over the screen as he turns his head slightly in the Green King’s direction. He lets a knife slide out of his sleeve into his free hand as he takes in what he can from his peripheral. _That damned parrot_. 

“I know what your intention is.” The parrot leans toward him slightly, its eyes gleaming green. “You intend to aid your ally, the Red King, in, don’t you?”

”Then you should just hurry up and kill me,” Saruhiko replies, turning towards the parrot fully while never losing sight of the PDA. 45%. 52%.

”There is no reason to, nor need to,” Nagare counters. “You are a J-rank, you have free access to roam wherever you choose around our secret base. Duels between clansmen are also not prohibited. So, until you press down on that button, you are not yet a traitor.”

 _There is no end to the recklessness he shows, is there?_ “In other words, I will become a traitor once I press down the button, and you will kill me. Am I correct?”

”You understand things quickly; it saves time.”

As if that’s hard to understand. Saruhiko resists the urge to roll his eyes, as well as the urge to look directly at the PDA. 60%. 70%. 

“It is impossible to reach this place, for anyone who is not a member of JUNGLE- not even the Red King. Suoh Mikoto will not save you. Your death will be meaningless.”

Saruhiko narrows his eyes slightly, his gaze hardening. “Is that a threat?”

”An invitation, Saruhiko. I am genuinely trying to recruit you. Your personality does not belong with the wildness of HOMRA, nor does it allow you to lead Scepter 4. King you might be, but even you can feel burdened by the needs of your clansmen. Your thoughts of freedom are best suited with JUNGLE.” 

“...” 78%. 85%. 90%.

”You refused me before, as you must be remembering now. Nevertheless, you are still a valuable asset to JUNGLE. As you heard me telling Sukuna, the world I have in mind will allow us to be equals.”

”You say that like I’m not a King.”

”I am saying that because I know you do not feel like a King.” Saruhiko jolts before he can stop himself, and he swears the parrot is smirking at him. “That’s right; I was there when you had your conversation with the previous Blue King Munakata Reisi. I sensed the ghost of his sanctum and thought it fit to patrol my base for his trail- it led me right to you.”

Which confirms what Saruhiko already knows- JUNGLE is less a place of equality than it is for assimilation. Willingly or not, participants in the JUNGLE game get sucked into the world of Kings and clans, into the vision that Nagare has for the world, and he doesn’t stop until they’ve been brainwashed of their former identity and given a new one as JUNGLE clansmen. The moment you become a JUNGLE clansmen, you give up the right to privacy and your own identity; Saruhiko remembered that from the way Yukari addressed him before he walked in, and he knows that the rest of JUNGLE have been watching his every step, waiting for him to stumble. Which is why, beneath his emotionless exterior, the rage he feels at the very intentional trespassing of his private boundaries hardens to form blue, unbreakable ice in the pit of his stomach. “And?”

“You are a King, Saruhiko. Wear that name like you’re proud of it, because you should be. With the power that the Slates grant you, you have the freedom to leave the world better than you found it, and there are none more willing than I to take you on and teach you how.”

“That’s true,” Saruhiko relents, because the Green King does have some good points. “If I stay here, I won’t have to deal with my idiot clansmen, nor submit to the whims of the first capricious King nor one who will end in destruction.”

”Affirmative.” 

“Then the answer is obvious.” It’s the easiest choice Saruhiko’s ever made. When he presses the button, he’s staring right into Nagare’s eyes. “No thanks.”

The Green King did have some good points- none. 

It’s true that Saruhiko wants freedom, but to have freedom there must be order. Nagare’s cause constitutes not freedom, but compliance with artificial liberty; that is just a different kind of imprisonment. And Saruhiko did join to save people, but less of the entire world and more of his own small world- a world that expanded to fit more people than just Misaki. People like Mikoto, Anna, HOMRA, his own clan. He knows all too well the power that the Slates hold, has seen it almost kill one of the people he cares about and kill another who sacrificed his life to save the first from that power; Saruhiko refuses to stand with anyone who thinks distributing power to raise equality is a gratifying mission.

His father’s voice echoes in the back of his mind. _“Why you, little monkey? What makes you special?”_

Munakata’s voice overpowers his father’s. “ _You are an individual who will never be tainted from the Slates’ corruption because you know how to use power responsibly. Because the Fushimi Saruhiko I know is an intelligent man who’s never forgotten how to be kind to the world even though the world has never been kind to you.“_

Because he is not a pawn of the Slates, nor of any other King that just wants his so-called assets to advance their causes. He’s Fushimi Saruhiko- the Blue King, the hidden weapons user, Misaki’s boyfriend, and Slate-appointed guardian of Tokyo- the selfish man that only holds his small world close to his heart with a white knuckle grip, snarling at anyone who dares to try and take it from him because it’s all he has. These people he holds in the palm of his decision are all he has, and God help anyone who dares to pull it away from him.

Saruhiko is undoubtedly a selfish man, but in the end everyone is selfish when it comes to protecting the people they care about.

The parrot leans forward, an angry gleam in its eyes. “You would turn me down once more?”

”You lost the right to mark me as JUNGLE’s the moment you threatened the people I care about.” Saruhiko allows three blades to slide into his hand as his eyes harden. “I may be on your turf, Nagare Hisui, but I am still the Blue King, and for abusing the powers granted to you by the Dresden Slates, in place of the Gold King, I will strike you down accordingly.”

”What a shame.” And the parrot flies towards the door, which opens to reveal the brat.

”So,” Sukuna begins, a grin splitting his face as he raises his scythe, “since we’re no longer comrades... this means I get to kill you, right?!”

“Get lost, brat. Going up against a King’s going to do nothing for you.”

”Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve never taken down a King before. So do me a favor and be my first, will you?!”

As Saruhiko raises the hand with three knives between his fingers, he feels the familiar curl of the Blue aura flooding through his veins like water through a desert; smooth, unhindered, and welcoming the return of its King.

 _We will advance with sword in hand, for our cause is pure_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I’ve missed writing for Munakata.


	12. curtain call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a matter of minutes, it’ll all be over. In a matter of minutes, he’ll make sure that he doesn’t lose any more people he loves for the sake of stupid power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re at the end!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who’s stayed for this journey; whether or not y’all were here since This Promise or not, I appreciate it all the same.
> 
> Enjoy!

The wind is definitely stronger up here- much, much stronger- but Mikoto allows it to sit through his hair and buffet his jacket as he leans over the railing of the Silver King’s whale ship, staring down past the clouds at the heart of the JUNGLE base.

JUNGLE base, where Fushimi is.

JUNGLE base, where all this madness with the Slates will end.

The insistent thrum of his aura underneath his skin pulses once, twice, and howls for vengeance and destruction as is custom for a bearer of the Red Aura; it’s a feeling that Mikoto’s gotten used to since awakening as Red King, and it’s hard to believe that in just a matter of minutes it will disappear entirely.

He would be lying, Mikoto thinks, if he says that he’s not reluctant to lose his powers; after all, they were what shaped him into HOMRA’s backbone, and turned what was simply a friend’s bar into a fortress belonging to what is arguably the strongest clan. His powers became the defining factor between a delinquent and a protector. And he would also be lying if he says that releasing his power in short bursts during a fight didn’t send his adrenaline rushing through his veins in excitement.

But at the same time, he never wanted this power, nor did he ask for it. After Kagutsu, his sleep had always been plagued by nightmares of destruction, of the demonic face of his predecessor, and of his inability to control his already unstable powers. Tatara had helped; he truly was the safety on Mikoto’s gun, never afraid to place his hand flat against Mikoto’s and say, with absolute certainty, “Your powers are meant to protect.” Munakata had also helped; he had been Mikoto’s equal in more than just strength, and Mikoto had never had to worry about hurting him during one of their many clashes- until that fateful moment, when love had almost, almost overpowered destiny and the constraints of the Slates’ power. Tatara had been his safety, and Munakata his freedom- he’d lost both to the hunk of stone sitting somewhere in the Green King’s hideout.

In a matter of minutes, it’ll all be over. In a matter of minutes, he’ll make sure that he doesn’t lose any more people he loves for the sake of stupid power.

”Thinking about Munakata-san, Suoh-san?”

The Silver King’s behind him, umbrella in his hand, wearing a genuine but sad smile. Mikoto’d like nothing more than to tell the man to shove off, but for once, he’s the entire reason they’re able to save Fushimi, and for another, he’s not wrong. “What if I am?”

Shiro just chuckles a little as he walks up to join him. “Nothing at all, Suoh-san. Though I’m very sorry for not being there to fix him while he was still here with us.”

Munakata’s lifeless form in the hospital bed flashes before Mikoto’s eyes, and he inhales deeply before he even thinks of answering. “Wasn’t much you could have done anyway.”

That much is true, at least; Shiro may be the one who knows the most about the Slates, but it’s doubtful that the Silver King could exert total influence over the Slates’ actions even with the extensive research he’d done. And yet, the Silver King doesn’t speak for at least a minute- when he does, there’s more than just regret staining his voice. “Maybe not, but... Munakata-san was a good man. He deserved more than wasting away in a hospital bed in the last weeks of his life. I’m sure you feel the same.”

Mikoto does; it wasn’t fair for someone like Munakata to pass so quickly, and it still isn’t. But when he looks back on those weeks, with a still aching heart because that’s what happens when you lose someone you love, he knows that it had to be that way. He knows because he cannot fathom a life without knowing Munakata; and though he would have liked nothing better than to have fallen head over heels for his Blue counterpart years ago, he’s grateful he had the chance to, as late as it was. “Yeah, well, things worked out in the end.”

“That, they did.” The Silver King smiles. “He loved you too, you know. I could feel it from all the way here.”

Mikoto just nods as he shifts his arms. Munakata wasn’t ever the type to say I love you out loud, least of all to him, but he found other ways to prove that he did. And Mikoto wouldn’t have it any other way. “I know.”

”Shiro.”

Both Kings turn at the sound of the Black Dog’s voice; Yatogami spares Mikoto nothing more than a fleeting glance before addressing his King. “JUNGLE’s base is approaching rapidly. In roughly 1.5 miles, we’ll need to land.”

”Got it. Thanks, Kuroh.” The Silver King throws his clansman a cheeky smile. “See you back there, ‘kay?”

Yatogami just rolls his eyes, but there’s a faint smile on the corners of his lips as he turns away.

The Silver King turns back to Mikoto and nods his head. “You should get yourself ready. We’re landing soon, and you might want to go over the plan again.”

”Oi.” Mikoto waits until Shiro turns around to continue. “When this whole mess is over, don’t screw up with that clansman of yours. Don’t wait until one of you is dying to figure your shit out like I did.”

Shiro gapes at him for a second, before he chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Heh. I guess you’re right, Suoh-san. Now, shall we?”

 

 

“Alright, boys,” Kusanagi drums his fingers on top of the table, “so you know the plan. You know it and you’re going to stick to it. Remember we are not just protecting our own, but the entirely of Japan as well, and we’ve only got one shot at this. We’ve got to do this with everything we’ve got, alright?”

”YEAAAH!”

”Let’s do this thing!”

Misaki can’t say he disagrees with the sentiment, but his mind’s going a million miles a minute on a tangent he’s rather not pursue any further than he needs to. He slams a mental firewall down on that topic and squeezes his eyes shut.

He can’t stop thinking about Saruhiko. Hell, all he’s been thinking of has been Saruhiko ever since that horrible night that he’d thought Saruhiko had once again played them all for fools- had played him for the fool- by disappearing in an instant to the side of the enemy. Every fiber of his soul screams for Saruhiko to be safe, to be okay; it doesn’t even matter if it’s with him anymore. What he wouldn’t give to see him safe and alive...

“Yatagarasu-kun.”

Ah, he thinks as he looks up, it’s the heartless woman, although she doesn’t look too heartless at the moment. In fact, it’s actually the opposite, and he fleetingly wonders how pathetic he must have looked for someone like her to approach him. “... Eh?”

”I may not know Fushimi-kun as long or as well as you have, but I do know that he will not be taken down so easily. Have courage.”

I do, Misaki wants to argue back hotly. Saruhiko’s not weak! But he swallows his replies because one, that’s not fair because that’s not the heartless woman’s point and two, he doesn’t think talking back to her is a good idea with Kusanagi sideyeing them from a distance. “Yeah.”

“Entrance to JUNGLE base approaching,” the Black Dog says. “Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. Seven.”

Misaki’s free hand finds his staff with his skateboard. He stops to look at another item before he grabs it.

”Six.”

He drags all outside to wait with the rest of HOMRA and Scepter 4.

”Five.”

Beside him, Mikoto’s hands burst into flame.

”Four.”

Kusanagi smiles around his cigarette, and Eric yells in the background.

”Three.”

At the heartless woman’s command, every member of Scepter 4 draws their swords.

”Two.”

JUNGLE’s base comes into view, hurtling towards them faster than the speed of light, and Misaki’s hands tighten around his staff. _Wait for us, Saruhiko_.

”One.”

The Silver King leaps from his ship with the Black Dog and the Strain girl just as the ship crashes onto the ground, and a shout comes from Kamamoto, who happens to be the first one from HOMRA to leap over the railing and drive his fist into the face of one unlucky JUNGLE operative. “No blood!”

”No bone!” from Chitose and Dewa.

”NO ASH!” 

Misako joins the rest of his clan as they leap off the ship in plaid waves and surround the JUNGLE members frantically shooting back with fire and pink light, only he goes in a different direction. Once his skateboard hits the ground, his other foot pushes off and propels him towards the opening that only Saruhiko could have opened up. _Saru, hang on! I’m coming to get you!_

 

 

 

 

_Damn brat!_

Saruhiko skids back on his feet and avoids a slice too close for comfort; only he skids too far back and he trips himself, falling onto his behind and rolling away just in time as Sukuna shoots him a victorious look from behind his scythe. “Heeeh, so this is what it’s like fighting a King? Even Yukari’s more fun than you.”

”Fun?” Saruhiko echoes, more than a little annoyed at the mere childishness of the... well, child.... in front of him, and allows the hilts of two more knives to slide between his fingers. “Is that what everything is to you? _Fun_?”

”I’ve earned more points on my own than you could probably do in a lifetime,” Sukuna sneers. “That’s why it’s fun. And that’s also why, after I defeat you, I’ll have enough experience points to challenge the final dungeon!”

Saruhiko barely refrains from clicking his tongue in disgust; this brat is either blind to the actions of his King or doesn’t care as long as the consequences don’t affect him directly. _So that’s what kind of person you are?_ “A brat with nothing but games in his head, who in reality knows he can’t win, but still needing to win anyway!”

He punctuates the last words by releasing the knives in his hand, but all Sukuna does is swing his scythe downwards to deflect them. Something shiny catches his eye before he’s clutching at his thigh with one hand because it’s suddenly exploded in white-hot pain. _Figures I’d eventually get stabbed by my own knife_ , he thinks darkly to himself as he tries debating whether or not the wound is too deep to pull his knife out.

The blade of Sukuna’s scythe clangs sharply on the tile beside him, and in his haste to not get stabbed again, the knife falls out of his leg. “Your fighting skills are way below average; I can’t believe Nagare wanted you from the beginning.”

”What? Jealous?” 

Sukuna’s eyes flash in irritation, and Saruhiko suddenly feels the scythe’s blade press against his jugular. And of course, his mind chooses that moment to point out that pretty much all of JUNGLE’s fighters have aimed a blade at him in one way or another. 

”I really want to kill you and get this over with,” the brat says through gritted teeth. “But that wouldn’t be fair; I’m not planning to kill you until you give me a real fight.”

”Am I supposed to thank you for your code of honor? Or is this just another game to you?” Saruhiko hopes his sarcasm isn’t lost on the brat.

As it turns out, it is. “You’re the Blue King, you tell me.”

His leg throbs harder, and Saruhiko suppresses a hiss as he presses his hand against the wound.  _This kid.... honestly._  “To think I have to teach a kid that difference between a game and reality... what an irritating reality.”

The blade at his throat disappears, only to swing up in an arc followed by Sukuna’s impatient yell. “You need help getting up or what, old man?!”

 _You brat_ , Saruhiko thinks as he watches the blade race towards him. _I’m probably only several years older than you_. _And you’re not going to run me through_.

As if on cue, Sukuna stops his blade an inch away from Saruhiko’s heart with an frustrated expression on his face. “I said give me a real fight!”

”Sorry to disappoint,” Saruhiko replies sarcastically as he snatches his knife off the ground. “I don’t hand out good fights to brats who have their heads in the clouds.”

”You bastard!” Sukuna yells swinging his scythe in an horizontal arc.

Saruhiko sees the blade coming, but he jumps back too late; the blade slices through clothing and skin to catch his side, leaving a gash that feels pretty deep and hurts like hell. This time, he can’t quite keep a strangled cry from escaping his throat, as he drops the knife in his hand in favor of pressing his free hand to his side. 

“You know what?” Sukuna’s voice comes dimly to him. “Since you’re already down, I might as well kill you now. Any last words?”

Through the pain of his injuries, Saruhiko somehow summons the strength to force out, “Brat,” because he’s not willing to humor Sukuna with another response. 

“Bye, Blue King. I’ll be nice and make it quick.”

_“ **Saruhiko**!”_

_Misaki._ Saruhiko snaps open eyes that he didn’t realize had closed and looks up in time to catch a white red and green blue speeding towards him and holding something in his hand. _What the hell are you doing?_

Twenty yards. Then fifteen. The moment Misaki hits ten, he throws that something, and it’s only when it gets close enough that Saruhiko recognizes what it is. He reaches up, ignoring how both his wounds scream at the motion in favor of the blue aura flooding to his fingertips and waiting in anticipation to be channeled into a vessel. The moment his hand wraps around the hilt of his saber, the saber glows with blue light, and he raises it in time to knock away Sukuna’s scythe.

As the brat growls and repositions himself, Misaki makes a wide berth around Sukuna and skates to a stop in front of Saruhiko. The moment Misaki’s eyes meet his own, some tension drains out of the vanguard’s shoulders and Misaki huffs either from relief or anger. “Saruhiko-”

”Not now, Misaki.”

”No, do you have _any_ idea how much you scared me? You couldn’t have told me aNyTh-”

”What the hell is your timing-”

”What the hell is _your_ thought process?!”

” _Misaki_.” Saruhiko breathes a sigh of relief when Misaki actually stops talking; he’s relieved to see him, he really is, but they have more important things to deal with right now- for example, the brat in front of them that’s literally vibrating with annoyance and green light. “We have unfinished business.”

”Oh, yeah.” Saruhiko wonders if Misaki is aware that he doesn’t actually need to shift in front of him, but once Misaki gets going, there’s no stopping him. “Playtime’s over, kid. Get lost.”

Sukuna actually smirks. “Saruhiko’s in critical condition, and your health bar’s turning low. There’s no point in you coming here.”

”I don’t know about that,” Misaki counters. “I heard your conversation from all the way down there. You don’t have anyone to play with, do you?”

”I’ve always been playing by myself; it’s better than having someone pull your leg. Besides, only Nagare is interesting. That’s why,” the brat brandishes his scythe in front of him, “I will kill anyone who stands in his way!”

Saruhiko’s eyes widen as Sukuna jumps up and swings his scythe at the same time. Without thinking, he grabs three knives and hurls them at the brat. “Misaki!”

Misaki skates out of the way, using his staff to knock Sukuna off balance as he makes a u-turn and returns to Saruhiko’s side. ”I think I get it now; you joined JUNGLE for an escape place, just like our past selves.”

 _“Let’s take over the world together, Saruhiko! If it’s with you, we can do anything!_ ”

Saruhiko stands up, with difficulty and a hand pressed against his side, eyes searching Misaki’s face for a reaction. There’s no visible change of expression on his face, though, and he wonders if Misaki also misses the way things were that time- more simple, more hopeful, when it was just the two of them against the world. 

He only gets a couple seconds to think these things, though, because in the next instant, Misaki says, “But sooner or later you have to grow up. Go home, kid.”

“You think you has-beens are so cool?!” Sukuna yells, jumping off of the ground and raising his arms to strike with his scythe. Misaki rushes forward, ducks the first swipe, and knocks Sukuna’s hand off. The brat growls in frustration and hits Misaki with the butt of his staff, sending him back. Then he raises his scythe into the air. “The old generation should just quit the stage!”

Saruhiko doesn’t hesitate; he pulls the last knife he has out of his coat, drops onto his knees from blood loss and exhaustion, and aims the knife at Sukuna. _This had better be worth it_.

A hand appears out of nowhere and supports his arm; startled, Saruhiko turns to the side and meets a pair of violet eyes that twinkle at him. _Together, Fushimi-kun_.

Saruhiko blinks, and the apparition is gone, but the weight supporting his arm is still there. It’s only when Saruhiko bends his arm and finally releases the knife, and when it lodges into Sukuna’s underarm, that the weight disappears.

Sukuna stops, the look on his eyes changing from shock to pain in a matter of seconds, and Misaki takes the chance to jump into the air and roundhouse kick him into a hole that somehow escaped Saruhiko’s notice. The brat loses his balance and disappears into the hole- body, scythe, and all- with a yell.

Suddenly, the extent of Saruhiko’s injuries catch up to him, nearly overwhelming him with how painful they are, and he collapses onto the ground with a groan.

”Saruhiko!” A hand grabs his shoulder as a shadow falls across the space in front of him; soon, all that’s in his line of vision is Misaki’s face, eyes wide as his hands fumble to press his sweatshirt to Saruhiko’s side. “Hang on, I’m going to get you out of here, okay?”

Saruhiko shuts him up by grabbing the front of Misaki’s shirt with a strength he‘s not aware he still has and pressing their lips together. Misaki practically melts into him, his hand moving from Saruhiko’s shoulder to his face; he tastes warm and strangely like coffee, but Saruhiko doesn’t mind because _oh, he’s missed kissing this idiot_.

But he’s the first to pull away, in order to let them both breathe, and presses his forehead against Misaki’s. “Idiot Misaki.”

”Who’s the idiot?” Misaki argues half-heartedly, partly because he’s exhausted but mostly because no words can explain how relieved he is that Saruhiko is _alive_. “You could have died, you know.” 

Saruhiko scoffs a little, but doesn’t deny it, and the way Saruhiko’s breath fans over Misaki’s face is something he’ll never take for granted again. “I thought you would hate me for this.”

”What the-“ Misaki’s actually so startled that he pulls away. “Saru, after everything we’ve been through, you think a little thing like this is going to make me love you less? You can’t get rid of me that easily, you know.”

Somewhere in the middle of his ranting, Saruhiko’s started staring at him in shock, and for the life of him Misaki cannot figure out why until Saruhiko asks, “You love me?” 

A multitude of things flash through Misaki’s mind- his mother asking, _Misaki, do you like this boy?_ ; the crushing devastation he’d felt when Saruhiko turned his back on him for the first time; why the heartless woman approached him; why he was willing to let Saruhiko go as long as he was alive and safe. _You love me_?

And that’s just it, isn’t it? That the fundamentals haven't really changed, that it‘s still the two of them against the world- just with a whole lot of friends backing them up. That there was a reason Misaki had been drawn into Saruhiko’s orbit in middle school and stayed there for the rest of his life, that their own red string of fate had been tangled and nearly broke in so many places, but had still stayed connected.

”Yeah, Saru, I love you,” Misaki answers, and it’s without a doubt the easiest and the truest thing he’s ever said in his life. “I love _you_. So don’t go dying without me, got it?”

Saruhiko stares at him for a while longer before his face twists in pain, and _holy heck,_ Misaki’s forgotten that Saruhiko is injured. “Oh, sorry, sorry, here. Tie this here; it’ll stop the bleeding.”  _I’m a horrible boyfriend_.

”I know how to treat wounds, you know,” Saruhiko replies through gritted teeth, but somehow Misaki knows that Saruhiko isn’t thinking of the pain at all. He looks up at the same time that Saruhiko does, and his heart does a somersault; Saruhiko is smiling, he’s actually smiling, and it’s because of _him_. “Misaki...”

”I know,” Misaki says, and he does; it’s only because he knows Saruhiko so well that he understands the enormity of this moment for him, “but say it whenever _you’re_ ready, okay?”

Saruhiko’s smile grows a little, and he sighs through his nose as he gives a little nod. For some reason, Misaki just finds it endearing; to think he could have lost this, lost _him_ , scares him so much that he leans forward on impulse and wraps his arms around Saruhiko’s neck, careful not to irritate the wound. “Stay with me, Saruhiko.”

He feels Saruhiko huff a chuckle against his beanie and wrap one arm around Misaki’s waist and pressing the other to the back of his head. “I’m not going anywhere, Misaki.”

They stay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, until the rest of Scepter 4 enter to retrieve their King and get them both to the ambulances, just before JUNGLE’s headquarters crumble into themselves with the destruction of its leader and the Slates.

 

 

 

 

**One week later**

 

“How’s it going, Munakata?”

There’s no response, just as there always isn’t every time Mikoto asks, but it stings a little less this time when he stoops down to lay down the bottle of _sake_. “I know I didn’t bring flowers this time, but I thought maybe you wanted a change from the usual.”

He hesitates a little before doing the next part: the headstone isn’t as big as some other ones he’s seen in the cemetery, but it’s big enough and sturdy enough that Mikoto can lean against it without knocking it over and jostling it when he sits down. For the first few seconds, Mikoto feels weird; he’s sure that doing this is equal to desecrating the grave. But the longer he stays put, the more he feels nostalgic bliss stirring in his chest; he decides to keep sitting there, because maybe he’s moved on with his life, but sometimes he still wants to feel close to Munakata. 

He sighs and leans back against the headstone. “So... looks like Fushimi and Yata are still going strong. There’s a bet going around HOMRA about whether or not they’ll tie the knot in the future.”

Mikoto can already see the pretentious raise of Munakata’s eyebrow, and chuckles. “S’fine, I didn’t bet anything. And Izumo offered to smack Fushimi if he breaks Yata’s heart again, and the same to Yata, so we’re good there.”

Mikoto searches for another topic of conversation. “Our powers are all gone now. Strains running around still have a little bit, but it won’t take long before those disappear too. S’a little weird keeping the yakuza in line without them, but I’m glad we don’t have power anymore. You know why.”

_“Oya. If you’re still talking about that, then I don’t quite believe that you have indeed moved on.”_

That voice comes from directly next to him, and Mikoto doesn’t want to turn and look in case he’s hallucinating or something. But because he’s a masochist, he looks anyway and his chest tightens with want; Munakata Reisi is on the ground next to him and smiling, and he cannot believe this is actually happening. “Hello again, Suoh.”

”Reisi,” is the first thing out of Mikoto’s mouth as he reaches out to touch Munakata’s face. “Aren’t you dead?”

”Yes, but,” Munakata shrugs, closing his eyes the moment Mikoto’s hand reaches his face, “I wanted to see you.”

Mikoto hums in acknowledgment as he strokes Munakata’s cheekbone with his thumb, still dazed by the fact that this is actually happening. “How many people you annoy up there for them to send you down here?”

”Hilarious, Suoh,” even though Munakata himself isn’t holding back a smile very well. “I requested permission to come down here temporarily. As it is, I have very limited time.”

”How limited?”

”Minutes.”

”Ah.”

They’re both silent for a while after that, motionless save for the two of them exchanging touches. Mikoto decides to start fiddling with the ends of Munakata’s hair, which is the exact same moment that Munakata decides to reach out and brush his fingertips over Mikoto’s cheek; the two of them lock gazes and chuckle.

Mikoto’s the first to break the silence. “I miss you, Munakata. It’s lonely down here without you.” 

“I know.” Munakata stops drawing circles on Mikoto’s cheekbone with the pad of his thumb in favor of just touching him there. “However, if it is any consolation, I believe you are managing just fine without me.”

”S’not the point. Sometimes it gets bad and...” Mikoto shakes his head. “Sometimes I wish I’d gone with you.”

”Mikoto...”

A pair of hands cradle his face; they’re strangely warm for someone who’s supposed to be a ghost, and Mikoto finds himself looking into eyes that look every bit sorrowful as he’s imagined. “You cannot let everything in your life remind you of the regrets you have, especially considering me.”

Mikoto reaches up to cover one of Munakata’s hands with his own; it’s all he can do to keep himself under control. “You saying I should forget you?”

”I’m saying that five minutes should be all the time you spend remembering me. You are still a King, even without the power of the Slates to aid you, and you still have your clan to lead. You are the core of everything they are, and they need you.”

”What about you?” Mikoto’s aware that he’s acting like a child, in this moment, but it’s a perfectly valid question. HOMRA is the core of who he is, and always will be, but what Munakata means to him is entirely different. “Where do I find you?”

“Suoh Mikoto, you are the most oblivious man I have ever met.” Munakata smiles anyway. “You will always find me in the things you do to protect this city. And you will always find me here,” he touches the spot right above Mikoto’s heart, “for the is where I will be until it is your turn to pass. And when that day comes, I will already be waiting for you.”

Munakata’s fading before Mikoto’s eyes; his hair’s already begun to blend in with the dark of the tree behind them, and his skin is matching the color of the sky. On an impulse, Mikoto blurts out, “I love you, Munakata Reisi.”

“I love you, Suoh Mikoto.” Mikoto swears he sees a smile as Munakata’s form fades entirely with a whisper of, “Live a good life; I’ll be waiting.” 

Mikoto’s left sitting by Munakata’s gravestone with his hand outstretched, the phantom warmth of Munakata’s cheek against his palm and the softness of his hair tingling at his fingertips, yet it seems like Munakata’s never left; his presence is still as strong as it was a few minutes ago, and he huffs a quiet laugh as he drops his hand. “You will, huh.”

In a few moments, his phone will ring; it’ll be Kusanagi sounding like a mother hen, asking where he is because the boys are getting rowdy, and could he get the groceries before heading back to the bar, please and thank you. He’ll reply like he always does, with a noncommittal grunt and a note to calm the boys down before he gets back, and he’ll go get the groceries. When he gets back, Fushimi will be there, with Yata, and he’ll be smiling for the first time in HOMRA’s presence; Mikoto’ll ask about Scepter 4, and Fushimi will say something about the idiots under his command and pretend to be annoyed. If he guesses correctly, the lieutenant will be there too, and poor Kusanagi’ll get asked again when he’s going to ask out the lady. When he gets back, Anna will be there to greet him, and a smile will light up her face when she asks how Munakata’s doing, and he’ll reply with, _He’s good_. 

In a few moments, all this will happen. But for now, Mikoto just rests. 


End file.
